Half Whole
by crassreine
Summary: "I have a family, my children-"  "Will surely live a far happier life with you gone," a cold voice whispered, and with a flash of green the man's life was gone.   Slash, AU, HP/LM
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim any ownership over anything related to Harry Potter.

**A/N: **Harry/Lucius. My favourite.

At the moment, anyway.

This will likely at least attempt to be an epic fic, with many, many chapters and plot twists.

Slash, and... violence. Note the rating, please.

All comments, critique, hate-mail etc. appreciated. If your review bothers me, I shall delete it. Don't be shy, we starving authors crave comments!

* * *

Lucius breathed slowly, pressing himself even more tightly against the wall behind his back, hoping the shadows that so far had kept him hidden, would not reveal his position. He thanked whatever whim it had been that had made him dress completely in black, the darkness helping him hide amongst the shadows of the alcove.

Another shriek of terror rang through the air, and Lucius forced himself to remain still as a man stumbled backwards, only a few steps away from him. "Please," the man begged, his words ragged from the scream. "I have a family, my children-"

"Will surely live a far happier life with you gone," a cold voice whispered, and with a flash of green the man's life was gone, the spell appearing without the man even uttering the dreaded incantation.

With a soft thump the body's back hit the ground, the dark eyes staring up at him unseeingly, as if accusing Lucius for having done nothing to save him.

When there were no steps to indicate that the killer had left, Lucius fearfully lifted his head and came face to face with a tip of a wand, glowing green in the darkness of Knockturn. Swallowing with difficulty Lucius lifted his hands before him, palms facing the danger to indicate he had no intention drawing his wand. The moments passed, the wand still pointed at him, but slowly the green from the tip faded, and finally the man turned and Lucius allowed his body to sag against the wall.

That was the last time he would wander into Knockturn after dark.

Still trembling Lucius drew his cloak tighter around him and stepped over and around the five bodies that had all fallen to the green flare of the Killing Curse. The men had not gotten even a single curse to land on their intended victim.

It was the silent casting that most frightened Lucius. Not even the Dark Lord had been able to succeed in such a feat.

Pushing the incident to the back of his mind, Lucius headed towards his destination, all the while cursing Armando. If this was not worth his while, he would kill the man. He could not afford to risk his life for nothing, and he did not have the luxury of time. Already it had taken far too long to arrange all this.

A slice of yellow torch light cut through the darkness and Lucius, mindful of the other shadows around him headed towards it. He soon heard the sounds of drunken laughter and joyous singing, along with shrieks of either pain or pleasure. One could never tell in the pits of Knockturn. What you thought was a rape might turn out to be consensual, and vice versa. You couldn't trust your senses in the dark alleys at day, let alone at night when everything was twisted on its head.

He stepped inside the bar, thankful for the warmth after the chilly autumn air. Yet no matter how stifling the heat was inside with so many people and roaring fires, he refused to pull off his hood or remove his gloves. It wouldn't do for him to be recognized, and he loathed to actually have to touch anything.

Armando was easy to spot. Red hair, reminiscent of a Weasley shone like a beacon on the man's pale head. The ugly red scar running from the corner of his left eye to his jaw made him even more recognizable. The dark shadows under his eyes made him appear weary and insomniac, yet it seemed he always had too much energy, as if he'd just woken after a refreshing nap.

Lucius made his way through the crowd and sat down opposite the redhead. He pulled back the hood enough to let Armando get a glimpse of his face, but drew it back soon so no one else could look close enough.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Armando commented with a grin. "Something spook you? I hope it's not a vampire. I bloody hate the leeches."

"Not a vampire," Lucius answered, confirming that something had spooked him. "I just saw someone kill five men."

Armando shrugged. "Not unusual in the alleys."

"Oh, but this is," Lucius replied, leaning closer in the hopes that his words would not be overheard. "He did silently. And the way he moved, like a shadow. If I hadn't seen a wand I would have thought him a Dementor."

"Lots of people move fast, and silently," Armando answered, but had also leaned closer, eager to hear the tale.

"Move silently, yes," Lucius admitted with a dry chuckle. "But how many can cast the darkest of all curses without uttering a word. Five times. And there was not a hint of hesitance of tiredness in him. I'm quite surprised to be alive, actually."

"Maybe he didn't see you."

"He saw me," Lucius whispered, and shivered as he remembered the glowing wand tip. "Just decided to let me live for some reason."

Armando grunted and emptied his drink. "What'd he do with the bodies? Not leave them, I hope. The Aurors'll be all over it soon, otherwise. They'll do another sweep. Who knows what they'll dig up this time."

Lucius shrugged, and decided not to mention that the bodies were still there. It was not his problem. Besides, the Aurors swept Knockturn at least every six months, and yet they never really cleaned it. "We have business," Lucius reminded Armando. "Do you have them?"

Armando shook his head. "I told you, he doesn't deal with middle men. You'll have to meet him."

Lucius's lips twisted, but he had expected this.

"You arranged for the payment like I told you, yeah?"

"Of course I did," Lucius snapped.

Armando nodded and stood up. "Upstairs then. He's got a room."

Lucius followed him through the crowd and to the back where they ascended the stairs, passing a witch with a fresh cut on her lip, and dishevelled hair, but she quickly diverted her eyes from them. It was not an unusual to see women or men violated on the premises, and the rooms upstairs were rented by the hour.

They stopped before the third room on the left, and Armando knocked. There was no answer, but the lock clicked and Armando pushed the door open, yet stepped aside. Lucius turned to Armando and lifted on eyebrow, but the man simply shrugged and returned downstairs.

Uneasy now, Lucius entered the room, taking in the surroundings with little ease. A bed, a table and a chair. A man with a hooded cloak stood beside the bed and with a gloved hand gestured Lucius to step inside and close the door. When he did so, Lucius felt wards snapping into place around him. Privacy wards, he guessed, and a few others he could not recognize.

"There's an enchantment on the room," the voice, cold and unemotional and oh so familiar spoke. It belonged to the man that had spared his life earlier that evening, after killing five others. "A contract that secures our identities and anything we might learn in this room. You will need to acknowledge it."

"I am familiar with it," Lucius replied, knowing the enchantment the man spoke of, having used it many times himself when dealing with various people. "I agree to the oath of secrecy. Confined to the secrets shared in this room, and to you and I."

"I agree to the oath of secrecy. Confined to the secrets shared in this room, and to you and I," the man repeated after him and the borders of the room, the windows and the door flashed white in

acknowledgment of the oath. From now on anything that was said in this room would remain between them.

More comfortable now that the secrecy was assured, Lucius pulled back his hood and waited for the other man to do the same.

"Ah, Lucius Malfoy," the man spoke, making no move to unmask himself.

"You have me at a disadvantage," Lucius replied, frowning. If the man pulled of his cloak, he would need to reveal his true face. The enchantment assured not only secrecy, but made null all glamours and even revealed several potions. If the man had used any kind of potions to mask his appearance they would be ripped away, yet the enchantment only prevented magic, and could not force him to reveal his face if he was wearing a mask or a hood covering his features.

"And I intend to keep it so," the man answered Lucius, clearly amused. "Yet I see no harm in revealing my face. I doubt it would be of use to you." The arrogance in which the man spoke reminded Lucius of the Dark Lord, even the artful grace in which he lifted his hand was familiar. But there was coldness, a lack of malice and insanity in the man that had always been present in the Dark Lord.

When the face was finally revealed, Lucius was surprised at the smooth and youthful face. Handsome, without question, yet unassuming, someone you could easily overlook as pleasant and charming, yet not threatening.

"Will you not tell me a name," Lucius ventured to suggest.

The man waved his hand dismissively. "You have no use for it," the man smiled, and it was a charming and inviting smile, the kind Lucius encountered at dinner parties and had learnt to recognize as neutral. The man was neither trying to threaten or endear himself. It was the smile of a man confident in his power and abilities, someone who did not need anything from you, but was willing to spend a few minutes in your company simply for the pleasure of it. It was an expression that was rarely directed at him.

"We are here for business," the man reminded him, and pulled out a purse from his belt and laid it on the table. Slowly the man unravelled the ties that held it together and revealed the contents. Ten perfectly cut ruby red shards of _Dirham._ "They will not be missed by the previous owners or their successors, as specified. Feel free to inspect them, Mr Malfoy."

Lucius pealed off the glove from his right hand and cautiously approached the table. He lifted one shard and held it to his eye. "Perfect," he breathed, lowered the shard and inspected the others. "It couldn't have been easy acquiring these," he said, and looked up at the man, noting the cold glint in his eyes that he now saw were a particular shade of green, almost identical to the killing curse. They were a rough contrast to his pale face and black hair that reached well over his shoulders in a silken fall, reflecting the red and orange light of the candles.

The man's mirthless smile revealed a set of pearly white teeth, and when the man lifted his chin, the arrogance was practically oozing off him. "Were it easy, you wouldn't have needed my services," he chuckled. "Now," he intoned sharply. "The key."

Lucius fished out the Gringotts key, along with the bank statement from his pocket, laid them on the table and slid them to the man. He watched silently as the man studied the statement that only held one figure, dated earlier that day, and the name of the account holder. "Valiant J," the man chuckled quietly and the corner of his mouth lifting upwards. "J would have sufficed." He folded the bank statement and slid it to his pocket along with the key. "You have now not only purchased the shards, but a means in which to contact me should you ever require my services again. Simply place one hundred galleons to this account, and I shall contact you."

"One hundred-" Lucius repeated, outraged.

"My services are not cheap, Mr Malfoy," the man interrupted. "For one hundred galleons you buy an opportunity to present me with your matter, no more, and no less. Confidentiality is the only thing I can guarantee with that price."

"And what other services do you provide, besides theft?" Lucius asked, his mind on the dark alley and the five dead men.

"Anything you may require," the man replied, that same neutral smile plastered on his face. But now there was a strange difference in it, and his voice carried a huskiness that would have been more appropriate in a brothel. Yet Lucius could not find it in himself to be disgusted by the tone as he would have been, had someone else spoken to him like that.

Unnerved by the man and his suggestive tone Lucius gathered the shards and gave a sharp nod. Without another word he excited the room, and once the door closed felt the pressure of the oath slightly tighten and then snap into place. The pressure would lessen within a few days when the encounter was no longer so prominent in his mind, and he was less likely to let something slip.

Pulling up his hood Lucius made his way downstairs and through the crowds, not stopping to greet Armando even though he saw the man entertaining some people around a table. Back in the streets Lucius quickly turned a corner and headed towards the less hostile environment of Diagon.

The blow to his head came from the back, and he never even saw his attacker.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: Because I am not a patient person, here's chapter one (technically two, but the first one was the prologue). Comments, critique, hellos, all welcomed and loved, just like in the previous chapter.

Anyone want to be my Beta for this? It would be nice to have one, because it isn't completely finished, even though I have many, many chapters on my computer.

Oh, and people shall die. So: _Character Death_!

And quite possibly sex.

* * *

When the door slammed closed behind Lucius, and the man sometimes called J was left alone, he pulled out his wand and began to unravel the various enchantments and wards placed on the room. It was still his till the clock struck the hour, but he had no desire to linger any longer than was necessary. He'd completed his business.

After he was finished, he swept his eyes along the room one last time before moving to the window and opening it with a sharp tug. Under the window there was nothing but a steep drop. No ledges or ridges to grab hold of to ease the landing.

Pulling his hood over his head and making sure his wand and pouches were secure he stepped onto the ledge and jumped out of the window, landing soundlessly to the cobble street, well away from the torches lighting the inn.

He almost tripped over a man collapsed on the side of the road, his cloak ripped off, long blond hair strewn over the ground, coloured red by the blood from his head wound. He tilted his head, stepped closer and used his boot to nudge the man who did not stir. He hesitated for a moment before kneeling down and pushing the man's hair from his face. He trailed his gloved fingers along the familiar pale features, now splattered red with drops of the man's blood.

Footsteps closing in on them made him realise he could not stay here. His hand hovered over the man, and his fingers closed into fists, but when someone shouted, he cursed, grabbed hold of Lucius, threw him over his shoulder and carried him from the street, not bothering to look back.

Once he reached the more lighted area around Diagon, instead of heading towards the Leaky Cauldron and the exit there he step in to the narrow alley beside Madam Malkin's and apparated with a small crack. He re-appeared in a small room with no windows, brown walls, a narrow bed with only a mattress and a woollen blanket, and a small side drawer beside it.

Grunting, he hefted Lucius onto the bed and after removing his cloak and gloves pulled back his hair, tied it back and sat down next to the man. Gently he lifted the Lucius' head and inspected the wound near the forehead. He pursed his lips together, leaned down so his mouth was almost pressed against the other man's and whispered, "Wake up."

When that didn't get the desired effect he let his fingers trail down from the pale forehead, to the cheek and across the splash of blood and to his lips. He smeared the blood so it coloured the man's pale pink lips red and kept his finger in place until Lucius' mouth opened and the tip of his tongue peeked out and pressed against his finger.

Slowly, almost agonisingly so, Lucius' eyes fluttered open and awareness returned to his features. And once he realized who it was hovering over him Lucius drew in a shaky breath and stilled. It was as if he had sensed being under the gaze of a predator, and did not want to draw any more of its attention.

"So it was you, watching me from the shadows," the man remarked, drawing his finger from the lips and trailing them along Lucius' throat. "Terror like this," he leaned back and smiled lazily, hand still heavy against Lucius' throat, nails pressing lightly against the skin. "You couldn't begin to understand how intoxicating it is."

Lucius swallowed, careful not to wince, despite the blinding pain at the back of his head. "I can imagine," he replied, and the man laughed, softly, with gentleness that Lucius found hard to believe be false, yet could not believe to be genuine. "Is that why you took me?" Lucius asked.

The man frowned, but then the expression cleared and he stood from the bedside and kneeled before the bedside table, and without looking at Lucius began to explain. "I didn't take you. I saw you sprawled on the street and instead of leaving you there to be either gutted or picked up by the Aurors decided to play the hero. So here you are." He looked back at Lucius with a charming smile quite unlike the ones Lucius had been graced with before by this man. "In my bed." He presented Lucius with a potion bottle.

"What's this?" Lucius asked, peering at the lime green liquid in his hand.

"For your head," was the answer. "The bleeding has stopped. Once you feel up to it you can use the bathroom to clean up. And then you can leave."

Lucius looked around, jugged the potion down his throat and sighed as it eased away the dull ache. "Not much of a home."

"It isn't," the man laughed. "And once you leave I won't be coming back."

Lucius looked at the man and saw him piling various potion bottles and other small things from the drawer to a bag. "Why?"

The man stopped in his packing to look at him, and Lucius could have sworn the man was laughing at him just by the way his eyes narrowed. "Because you've seen it," he said as if it was the simplest thing in the world. And perhaps for someone like him it was.

"Isn't that a little paranoid?" Lucius asked, pushing himself to a sitting position, and placed the empty potion bottle on the bedside drawer.

"Perhaps," the man answered and stood, taking the empty bottle and looking down at Lucius. "You should hurry."

"Why?" Lucius asked, not at all willing to leave when it was asked of him.

The man stared at him for a long moment, and then his mouth formed into a smile that was both pleased and mocking. "Do not tell me that you have formed some sort of inappropriate attachment to me simply because I hoisted you over my shoulder and carried you away as if you were a swooning maiden."

As insulting as the whole concept was, Lucius only shrugged and quirked an eyebrow, succeeding in making the man burst in to laughter.

"Malfoy," the man said, pronouncing his name softly and with precision, as if it were a curse or a hex, leaned down so he could keep his voice as low as possible, and yet still be heard and spoke "You do not want to play this game. Not with me."

Almost certain he had missed something fatal, some undercurrent that had changed the playing field completely, Lucius almost faltered, but his pride forced his back straight and make his lips pull into a smirk. He brushed his hand against his side, and then stiffened. His eyes widened when he did not feel the bulge of the pouch in which the shards rested. He scampered of the bed and began frantically searching for it in all of his pockets.

"What is it?" the man asked, already pulling his cloak back on.

"The shards…" Lucius replied, and looked back at the man. "They're gone."

The man shrugged. "You were robbed. These things happen when you get knocked over the head in Knockturn."

"You don't understand," Lucius whispered his mouth dry. "I need them, my wife…" he looked back at the man. "I need them."

"Give it a few weeks and you'll get to buy them back from the collectors. People are always on the market for _Dirham _shards."

"I don't have two weeks," Lucius rasped. "I need them now, or my wife will die."

The man stilled in pulling on his gloves. "I had wondered what you needed ten perfectly cut shards for. So it's a healing ritual." He shook his head and pinned a cloak pin to his chest. It was a simple bronze one, and there was nothing in it that would make it any easier for the man to be recognized.

"Please," Lucius intoned, taking a step closer to the man, almost closing his hand on the man's cloak but staggered back at his cold look. "I'll pay anything."

The man huffed and glared at him. "You don't need me for this," his voice was cold, nothing of the playfulness he had displayed earlier was present in his stiff stance.

"I can't…" Lucius choked. "There's no time."

The man's lips drew back into a snarl and he growled at Lucius. But when Lucius did not budge, he pulled back and scoffed, then shook his head, looking exhausted. "For a man so devoted to your wife, you display peculiar behaviour."

Lucius frowned, momentarily confused, but when the insinuation made sense he felt heat flood his cheeks. "I was not…" he let his words fade, not at all sure himself if he had not meant it. The man confused him in so many ways. "I will pay you anything you want. Just please. Get them back."

The man picked up the bag he had filled from the bedside drawer and hefted on his shoulder. "I'll contact you."

"Does that mean you'll do it?" Lucius asked, frantic.

The man smiled and disapparated, leaving Lucius alone and without an answer.

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Exhausted the man allowed himself to collapse on the chair and dropped the bag next to him on the floor with a small chink. He closed his eyes and leaned against the backrest, letting the familiar sounds of the wooden house fill his ears and lull him to a sense of security he could not achieve anywhere else.

This was home, this was safe.

"Mr Potter?" a girl's voice called out from the hall, and soon a young girl, around fifteen stepped into the living room and turned on the lights, filling the space with yellow light. "Funny, I didn't hear you coming in, and I was just at the kitchen. Everything alright?"

"Fine, just fine Mary," he answered, rubbing his closed eyes. "I'm going to have to leave again soon. Can you stay with Harry for the night?"

"Sure, no problem," the girl, Mary smiled. "He's been a real doll, went straight to bed after his story."

"That's good to know," he smiled, but then frowned again. "I'll have to leave now. It feels like this night is never going to end. Damn that man." He stood up and bent down to lift his bag from the floor, and after a few moments added the Gringotts key and the bank statement inside it. "Can you take this?"

Mary smiled and took the bag. "In the usual place, Mr Potter?"

"Yes," he nodded and after a brief moment of hesitation disapparated.

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"Oh Haardiiing!"

The brown haired man jumped as his name was sang out from the dark alcove, and cursed as soon as he recognised the smirking face belonging to his somewhat friend and fellow conspirator. "Merlin damned, J, why the hell do you have to do that every time?" he asked, yanking at his hair.

"Do what?" the man asked, spreading his hands in a sign of surrender. "Aren't you glad to see me?" he grinned, sidling to the man and throwing an arm around his shoulders.

"I'd be a lot happier if you didn't feel the need to try and give me a heart attack every god damn time," he muttered, but did not try to pull away from the hold. It was just easier to go along with J than try and make him behave like a normal member of society. "So what you need this time?"

To J's credit, he did not even attempt to deny he was after something. "Any arrests on Knockturn tonight?"

"A few brawlers. Were released right away," he answered.

"No one pick up anything… interesting?"

Harding narrowed his eyes at the tone. "What have you gotten yourself mixed up in this time?"

"Nothing bad, I promise," was the easy answer, and for some reason Harding believed him. "Just answer the question."

"Marrow had some strange gems on him, but since they didn't seem valuable, and nothing like 'em been reported stolen, we let him go." Harding told him, and then looked at J form under his bangs that had fallen to his eyes. "Doesn't sound like your usual style. Why you onto this?"

J's sigh sounded suffering. "I blame the pretty face, personally," he muttered with a forced grin.

"Got yourself a girl, J?" Harding smirked. "Who'd take a cold hearted bastard like you?"

J chuckled and pulled his arm from around Harding. "Someone equally cold." Without turning his back J walked away from him, slowly disappearing into the surrounding darkness. "You take care now, and keep the Wizarding world safe, my brave Auror." And he was gone, just as abruptly as he had appeared.

"Nice seeing you too, asshole!" Harding yelled after him. "Some day the fuckers gonna walk up to me in the middle of the day and say hello like a normal wizard, and that's when I'm gonna have a heart attack."

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Lucius tried to narrow his concentration on the glass of whiskey in his hand, but every time another pained whimper carried through the hall from the bedroom, or another panicked cry from a healer was heard his attention was pulled away from the golden liquid and to the fact that his wife was sick, perhaps dying in the room only a few doors down the hallway.

Perhaps he should have moved to the other side of the manor, as he had moved their son, but every time he contemplated it he felt guilt overwhelm him. Narcissa's condition was his fault, after all. If he had not demanded she take the potions, if he had not practically forced them down her throat… But what else could he have done? He had needed an heir, a son to carry on the Malfoy name. And Narcissa had agreed, eventually. What good was a pureblood witch if she was barren?

"Master!" an elf, its eyes round and puffy, too large ears hanging around its narrow and ugly face squeaked.

"What is it?" Lucius snapped, and the elf cowered.

"A package for master, form a dark man!" the elf bowed, holding out a velvet pouch.

With trembling hands Lucius reached out, picked up the pouch and opened it. They were there, all ten of them, just as he had seen earlier that night. He had done it, J, or whatever his name was, had retrieved the shards.

"Was there a message?" Lucius asked from the elf that shook. "Did he say anything?"

"Only to give master the pouch, nothing else master!"

Lucius stared at the elf, not sure if this was a good thing, or a bad thing. A debt unpaid could easily return to plague him at a bad time, yet for the man to do this without charge indicated that perhaps he… liked Lucius?

He tightened his hold around the gems and shook his head. No, there was nothing positive in this. Any interest gained from a man as dangerous as J was bad, no matter how thrilling the prospect of such interest felt.

Nothing good could be gained from it.

Yet when had Lucius been able to stand the temptation of having the attention of dangerous men on him? The Dark Lord was proof enough of his desire to be around those powerful and dark.

"Master is needing me no more?" the elf whined, and Lucius sneered down at the pathetic creature. There were times when the urge to crush them beneath his boots was almost overwhelming.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** As this is already the third chapter, I'm going to presume everyone reading this has noticed both the rating (**M**), and the fact that this will be a _slash_ story.

So there's no need for anymore warnings about _slash_, _character death_ and _violence_, is there?

All comments, critique, hellos, hate-mail accepted and appreciated.

* * *

It had been three years since Narcissa had been healed from her illness, and not much had changed in Lucius' life. His family was still the most important factor in his life, preceded by nothing. The future of the Malfoy line, his son's future was what drove him to donate his money to different charities and make connections within the Ministry and amassing his fortune.

The recent deaths among Azkaban inmates caused by spoiled food somehow making it to the prisoners had benefited him in his goal. His wife's sister, Bellatrix Lestrange had died only hours after his husband, leaving her fortune to be divided between her sisters Andromeda and Narcissa, but Lucius was confident that he would eventually be able to claim if not all, then at least most of it.

Another Black fortune to be divided was that of Sirius Black, and Lucius was certain that he would be able to claim it all for his son. Narcissa had already waved all claims to it in favour of Draco, and he did not think Andromeda was at all interested in the main Black fortune.

Straightening his tie Lucius strolled inside the Ministry building and towards the office that the will reading was to be taking place. It was still quarter to eleven, so he had plenty of time.

"Mr Malfoy!" A young man with straw coloured hair and blemishes on his face wheezed as he came to a stop beside him. "I'm so glad I caught you before you could leave the atrium Mr Malfoy. The meeting has been moved to the level two."

"That's where the MLE office is," Lucius frowned. "Isn't that a little unorthodox?"

"Yes sir, but it's the only office available sir. There's been a flood in the legalities office."

Lucius sniffed at the ludicrousness of the Ministry, but nodded his head and gestured the boy to lead the way. He frowned when the boy simply stood in place. "I'm sorry sir but there's one more person we have to wait for. Other than him we've already got everyone there."

"And who is that?" Lucius asked, but received no answer as a fireplace flared green and a man he had almost hoped would never cross his path ever again stepped out of it.

"Mr Potter?" the boy yelled questioningly, and Lucius watched in disbelief as the man he had known as J, a thief and a mercenary lifted his hand in greeting and graced the boy with a cold smile.

"Mr Potter?" Lucius repeated, eyes wide. "This, is Hadrian Potter?"

"Ah, I see my reputation precedes me, Mr…?"

Lucius stared at the man, willing his mouth to stay closed and not to hang open at the man's gall. "Malfoy," he introduced himself and held out his hand. "But we have already met."

"Have we?" Potter smiled sharply, taking Lucius' hand and squeezing more tightly than was necessary. "I apologize, but I have no recollection of the incident."

"I might be mistaken," Lucius amended, having picked up on the threat.

"I'm quite certain you are," Potter revealed his teeth in an expression that could have been a smile or a snarl. "You see I have kept myself well away from the Wizarding world for the past decades."

"Gentlemen, if you'll follow me," the young clerk interrupted and gestured for them to head to the elevator, already filled with various Ministry personnel and people conducting their business in the building.

The elevator doors closed before them, shutting them inside a small space where Lucius was forced to press his side against Potter's. He chanced a glance at his side, but could glean nothing from the man's face. His green eyes were just as cold as they had been three years ago, his hair slightly longer perhaps and braided. The dark blue robes with decorative black sewing and silver buttons were a far cry from the dark and practical robes the man had worn in that dingy pub at Knockturn. The man was the same, if not slightly more intimidating now with the trimmings of his true station.

To think that Harry Potter's guardian was a man that could easily cast the darkest of the Unforgivables with familiarity that made it possible for him to do so silently and without any sign of exhaustion.

The elevator binged and announced they had arrived at level two, and the young man that had met them downstairs directed them through the sea of desks where men and women wearing the red robes of Aurors were standing and sitting. A few recognized Lucius and scowled at the man they felt had gotten away without paying for his crimes.

But despite Lucius and his dark reputation among the Aurors, it was the other man that gathered more attention, and the reactions that greeted him were much more interesting.

As far as Lucius knew Hadrian Potter was a recluse who had appeared out of nowhere seven years ago and claimed custody of his cousin, Harry Potter. He had claimed to have been wandering around the US as an amnesiac with no memory of his previous life, or even of the Wizarding World.

Yet it seemed the Aurors glanced at him cautiously, trying not to appear as if they were even aware of his presence. It could have been just simple curiosity towards a man that had so far lived in seclusion, but a few looks were far too cautious and knowing for Lucius to believe it. They were worried, perhaps even frightened. Because, or for him Lucius wasn't certain, but the feeling was there.

One man, dark skinned and bald took one look at Potter and his eyes went round. He hurried out of the room, and his exit did not go unnoticed by Potter who frowned after the man and then turned to their guide. "Is there a reason why the meeting is being held here?"

"Flooding in legalities," the young man, possibly a clerk in legalities answered, but his smile that had come so easily for Lucius seemed to falter before Potter's glare.

"Flooding?" Potter repeated with a dull tone. "Of course. And the reason for the meeting to be held here, in the midst of Aurors?"

"Because we happen to have an empty office for you, Mr Potter," a woman, perhaps thirty with a dazzling smile and Auror robes. "It's a very busy day for the Ministry today, what with Madam Umbridge's resignation."

"Ah, so the bitch is gone?" the vulgar words were made even worse by Potter's jovial tone and bright smile.

The woman graced him with a tight smile and narrowed eyes. "There is no need to be insulting, Mr Potter."

"The woman attempted to steel from my cousin," Potter answered with a frown just as severe. "She should be glad I didn't have her thrown in Azkaban."

The woman huffed and turned on her heels. A few Aurors glanced at her with sympathy, but most didn't bother to even look up.

"I apologize for her, Mr Potter, but family loyalties," another man with markings of a senior Auror in his robes stated with a tired sigh. "And it's not just Umbridge, but many Ministry employees were caught up in the mess in some way."

"So it's my fault that the ministry is corrupt?" Potter questioned with a sneer. "You cannot fault me for holding her and her co-conspirators accountable for their actions. They attempted to gain control of my cousin's property and declare me unfit to be his guardian, and in your opinion I should have just allowed without any kind of protest?"

"No of course not, that's not what I -" the man faltered in his attempts to placate Potter, and finally shook his head and nodded to the side. "Let me show you to the conference room Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy." He turned and headed down the corridor with the younger man that had met them in the atrium, leaving Lucius finally alone with Potter.

"The Ministry tried to cease control of your charge's assets?" Lucius asked, a tone of incredulity in his voice. It wasn't difficult to believe the Ministry would attempt to control The-Boy-Who-Lived in some way, but what surprised Lucius was that somehow Potter, who by all accounts was a recluse with no connections had managed to not only stop them, but also make sure everyone knew how foolish it would be for anyone to even try interfering in his matters.

"The whole story should be in The Prophet by tomorrow," Potter replied with a small smile.

"Here you are Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy," the senior Auror interrupted, opening a door. "I'll just leave you to it. Have a pleasant day."

Potter turned to look at the man walk away, and when he'd disappeared midst the crowd of Aurors, swirled around and flashed Lucius with a grim smile. "After you, Mr Malfoy," Potter tilted his head towards the room and Lucius, after inclining his head stepped inside.

The room held a rectangular table, and already seated around it was the representative from Gringotts, an unfamiliar goblin, and three wizards. From what Lucius had learned they were a Ministry official in charge of property records and legalities, a law expert and a member of the Wizengamot.

Who would inherit Black's estate was in the hands of these three men. The Gringotts goblin, Lucius and Potter had been called to share their opinion, but the decision would be made only if the Ministry employee, the law expert and the Wizengamot member all agreed on the beneficiary.

The Wizengamot member stood and gave a polite bow, followed closely by the other two men. The goblin remained seated, but gave a brief nod. "Mr Malfoy, Mr Potter, I am Adrian Carson, a member of the Wizengamot, and these men," he gestured to his right to the brown haired, relatively young spectacled man, "are Martin Besigney our law expert, and," he gestured to his left at the grey haired, hunched man "Arnold Young, property official with the ministry, and Grognagn, the Gringotts representative. We are here to settle the matter of the Black estate and all the earthly possession left behind by one Mr Sirius Black."

Lucius and Potter moved to sit in their chairs across from the four on the other side, and the young clerk took a seat at the head of the table, to the right of them, and took up a piece of parchment and a quill and began taking notes of the meeting.

"Let us get started," Carson, the unofficial leader of the meeting began. "First I believe we should read Mr Black's will. Usually the matter should have been concluded as stated in the will, but Mr Black did not state a main beneficiary, and so the matter of his inheritance that he received after his incarceration to Azkaban prison remains undecided. According to previously received documents the remaining relatives of Sirius Black, her cousins Andromeda Tonks and Narcissa Malfoy have renounced their right to the estate, so it is with us to decide which child, Mr Malfoy or Potter should inherit, as both seem to have equal claim to the estate."

"I contest," Potter announced. "As Mr Black's godchild my charge Harry Potter should be the main beneficiary."

"My wife, her sister and my son as the closest living relatives of Mr Black should be the main beneficiaries of Mr Black, no matter his sentimental ties to the Potter family," Lucius said, hardly able to contain his sneer when he was forced to publicly declare that he had familial ties to Andromeda Tonks, and thus to her mudblood-husband and half-blood progeny. "And as stated before, my wife has waved all claims to the Black estate in favour of our son, Draco Malfoy."

"Gentlemen, please," Carson interrupted before either of them could get any further. "Let us hear the will first."

The law expert, Besigney corrected the position of his glasses, cleared his throat and read aloud. "I, Sirius Black, of sound body and mind, here by state this to be my final will and testament. I leave the amount of three thousand and five hundred galleons and my cottage in Yorkshire, to my friend and comrade in arms, Remus Lupin. To my friend and comrade in arms, Peter Pettigrew, I leave the amount of three thousand and five hundred galleons. To my friend and comrade in arms, James Potter and his wife Lily Potter I leave the amount of five thousand galleons. To my godson, little Harry James Potter I leave the amount of one thousand galleons to be placed in a trust and handed to him at the time of his maturity, along with my motorcycle." Besigney placed the parchment on the table and lifted his eyes from the writing.

"That was all of Sirius Black's possessions at the time of his arrest and incarceration, and all have been divided as stated, with the modifications related to the inheritance of Peter Pettigrew that was re-directed to his closest living relative, and the amount left to James Potter that has been re-directed to his son, one Harry James Potter. There was no mention of Andromeda Tonks nee Black, Narcissa Malfoy nee Black, or Draco Malfoy in the will."

"I think it's clear then," Potter said and spread his hands and looked at Lucius with a falsely apologetic smile. "It's all Harry's."

"It's not quite so simple, Mr Potter," the property official, Young stated. "Old families have certain conditions on who can inherit, and they place enchantments on their properties that ensure those conditions have been met. The elf, for example will not take orders from anyone but their rightful master."

"Would it not then make sense to simply call for the elf and see whose orders it will follow?" Potter asked, and the way he stated it roused Lucius' suspicion.

"You've already spoken to it," he accused Potter who flashed him one of his smiles that was the same infuriating mix of pleased and mocking Lucius remembered.

"It appeared," Hadrian answered. "Right after Mr Black passed away, I believe, and introduced itself."

Lucius growled and fisted his hands. He turned to the law expert and after twisting his face into a more genial expression instead of furious rage, asked "That settles the property matter, but not the vaults or the holdings, isn't that correct?"

Besigney shook his head, and Lucius swallowed down the growl threatening to escape from his mouth. "No, the money and the holdings are tied down to the main property. If the elf has indeed identified Mr Potter as his owner, then all other assets belong to him as well."

"Just one thing," Carson interrupted. "If Harry Potter is the beneficiary, why would the elf follow Hadrian Potter's orders?"

"Because Harry Potter is a minor," Besigney said. "And Mr Potter is his guardian."

"You could have saved us the trouble of this meeting had you mentioned the elf earlier," Lucius told Potter with a sneer.

"No, they would have demanded a meeting any case," Potter replied and gestured towards the goblin, who flashed them all with sharp toothed grin.

"Quite right Mr Potter. For this to be concluded in a manner that Gringotts accepts all participants should appear and hear the evidence so as there not to be any trouble later." The goblin's grin turned nasty as he looked at Lucius. "We advised Mr Potter to remain silent on the matter of the elf. We were aware of Mr Malfoys claim to the fortune in favour of his son, and should the matter not be dealt with officially it could have caused trouble for our client in the future, and complications for Gringotts. And Gringotts does not look favourably on complications."

Lucius drew in a long suffering breath and waited for the inevitable. The Black fortune would go to Potter, and he was only here as a witness.

"Very well, if you will call the elf, Mr Potter," Carson announced.

"Certainly," Potter nodded, and then bellowed. "Kreacher!"

An elf, far uglier and older than any Lucius had ever seen appeared on the table, hunched as if it were carrying a large weight on its shoulders, with a dirty and greyed pillowcase wrapped around it. "Master called for Kreacher," the creature scowled, twisting the dirtied linen between its long, knobbly fingers.

"Yes Kreacher, thank you," Potter said. "These men just need you to tell them who you belong to."

The elf looked at Potter with wide eyes, twisted mouth and practically snarled. "Kreacher belongs to master Potter, owner of the Black manor, master."

There was something terrifying in Potter's smile, and the elf shivered and bowed its head, but did not begun to grovel and beg like all others of its kind would have done. "You can go now, Kreacher," Potter spoke softly and tapped his fingers against the table in a peculiar pattern that for some reason drew in the elf's eyes, and what looked like terror appeared on its face.

"Yes master Potter, Kreacher will leave master until Kreacher is called," the elf bowed to Potter and disappeared with a small pop.

"Well," Besigney gave a dry cough and fiddled with his glasses. "It certainly has character."

"If all are in accordance," Carson asked, glancing at Besigney and Young who both nodded. "I declare the Black estate to be the property of the minor Harry James Potter, controlled by his cousin and guardian Hadrian Jordan Potter until the minor reaches maturity." Carson cleared his throat and stood. "I'd like to thank all for participating in this meeting, the Gringotts representative," he nodded to the goblin. "Mr Besigney, Mr Young, Mr Malfoy and Mr Potter."

Lucius stood, as did Potter and everyone else in the room. The goblin simply grunted and left without a backwards glance. Carson smiled and nodded towards the clerk. "There are a few things you need to sign Mr Potter, but I believe that is all."

"Thank you all for your time and trouble gentlemen," Potter said, and held out his hand for Lucius. "Terrible sorry you had to come all this way for nothing Mr Malfoy."

Lucius took the hand and shook it with a wry grin. "Oh, I believe I gleaned something from this meeting, Mr Potter. Good day." He nodded his head and stepped out of the conference room, leaving Potter to deal with the legalities. The last image he had of the room before he closed the door was Potter's by now familiar tight lipped smile.

Instead of leaving the building Lucius headed towards the records office where he asked for their file on Hadrian Potter. Normally this would have been impossible, but the Ministry was ripe with corruption down to its lowest levels, and Lucius knew just the people he needed to pay to get his hands on Potter's file.

It was suspiciously thin, and there were only a few papers inside it, all of them tied to the man's guardianship of Harry Potter. Nothing of the man himself; what his test scores had been, about his occupation or his current or former address. "Is this all?" he asked the witch who nodded.

Scoffing Lucius thrust the file back to the woman and headed towards the lift and the lobby where he would floo home to the manor and drown his misery with liquor.

He arrived at the atrium just in time to witness a confrontation between two people he had never thought would meet. Though it was not unthinkable for Dumbledore to be familiar with Harry Potter's guardian, it was strange to see him standing before the man Lucius knew was a cold blooded murderer, and smile jovially. Then again, Dumbledore would probably present that same face to the Dark Lord.

Not interested in getting caught between them Lucius kept his distance, but inched close enough among the crowd that was gathering in the lobby to be able to hear them speak. From the looks of things they had not been standing here long, and despite the easy manner in which Potter stood, it was obvious he was annoyed by the tight press of his lips and narrowed eyes.

Potter's legs were spread apart, and the fingers of his right hand kept flexing as if he was prepared to summon his wand at any moment. The way he stood and looked was a perfect example of a man preparing for a duel. Even his formal dark blue robes, elegantly cut to display his wealth and station seemed fitted for battle. His cloak had been tossed over his shoulders and it hung on his back so as not to hinder his movements.

As a contrast Dumbledore with his light blue robes decorated with yellow flowers and green butterflies, flowing beard and half-moon spectacles and gentle smile was like an elderly man greeting his favourite grandson. That is if you discounted the small strain on his smile, and the unusual tenseness in his shoulders.

"Mr Potter," Dumbledore declared, nearly grinning. "You are a hard man to get hold of."

"I do try," Potter answered from between clenched teeth.

"I have been attempting to contact you for several years now, but alas, all my attempts have failed. Yet here you are, and here I am. What a wonderful opportunity this is to take a moment and sit down for nice cup of tea, don't you think?" Dumbledore's smile was beaming, and his eyes twinkled so brightly Lucius felt the ridiculous urge to shield his eyes.

"I'm afraid I've had my fill of tea for the day, Mr Dumbledore," Potter replied, his stance still hostile. "I'll have to decline."

"Nonsense my boy, we all have room for one more cup of tea. And do call me Albus," Dumbledore declared, his smile still brilliant.

"But unfortunately I have a previous engagement," Potter's smile gained an edge, and his eyes scanned through the crowd and stopped at Lucius, who began hoping he'd had sense to flee when it was still a possibility. Yet when Potter walked towards him with a purpose, Lucius forced a welcoming smile on his face. "Lucius and I have plans," Potter declared as if it were not the most ridiculous thing in the world.

"I… see," something in Dumbledore's joy dimmed, and his eyes became sharp.

"Yes, we have much in common, after all," the man continued, seemingly unaware just what he was insinuating. Declaring yourself similar to a Death Eater was not something you did in front of Dumbledore, even in jest. "Our boys are the same age, after all," Potter grinned in that infuriating manner of his, but at least this time it wasn't directed at Lucius. "Starting Hogwarts, preparing to take on the Wizarding world."

Deciding to play along for now, if it would get him out of the atrium sooner, Lucius inclined his head. "And we shall be late if do not hurry."

Side by side they stepped past Dumbledore and headed towards one of the fireplaces where Potter gathered some floo powder in his hand. "And now?" Lucius asked with a raised eyebrow, expecting Potter to suggest they go their separate ways.

"We might as well have dinner," Potter grinned crookedly at him. "The Leaky fine with you?"

Lucius wanted to say no, but something about the gleam in Potter's eyes made him nod instead. His reward was a widened grin that did nothing to ease the twinge of worry Lucius was beginning to feel.

"If you want, consider this payment," Potter said. "I never did name a price for your wife's life."

Had there ever been any doubt of the identity of the man that had delivered the _Dirham_ shards to Lucius' house elf, they were now all dispelled. And even though Lucius knew he should have been furious about the flippant way this man was forcing himself into his life, he couldn't help but feel a little flattered.

It was foolish and beyond idiotic, but he hadn't had this much interest in finding out what happened next since he'd served the Dark Lord. There was something to be said about the company of powerful, and perhaps insane men. "You're either too scared or shocked to be bored," Lucius muttered one possible explanation out loud before following Potter to the green flames.

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Potter had gotten them a private room in the inn, and ordered wine along with the meal.

The familiarity in which he greeted Tom, the owner of the Leaky, and waved to a few patrons discredited the rumours that he had lived as a hermit. Potter was obviously a regular costumer of the inn, and familiar with the respectable part of the Alleys, as well as the darker side of it.

"You're quite popular for someone with the reputation of a recluse," Lucius told him once they were secluded in their room with steaks and potatoes before them.

"I only go out of my way to avoid certain people," Potter told him, cutting into his meat. "Which include a certain nosy Headmaster."

"Not that I blame you," Lucius picked up his glass but did not drink from it. "Dumbledore can be infuriating. But is there a particular reason for your hostility towards him?"

Potter chewed and swallowed, and then took a sip from his wine before answering. "Dumbledore has taken upon himself to dictate fate," Potter replied, not lifting his eyes from the red wine. "He believes he was chosen for it, to control events, guide people and their choices."

"And you don't agree with that?"

Potter grinned and leaned back, brought the wine to his lips and gazed at Lucius from above the rim of his glass. "I'm a great believer in free choice. Let people make their own choices, even if those choices lead them to tie the noose in which to hang themselves."

Potter was laughing again, Lucius was certain of it. Yet for the first time it felt like the joke was not on Lucius, but on everyone else, and it felt good to be standing on the same side as Potter.

"It is strange," Lucius let his finger trail along the brim of his glass. "To have Harry Potter's guardian at odds with Albus Dumbledore. Considering history, I would have imagined you to be allies, not adversaries."

"One should not let the past dictate the present," Potter laughed. "And if that were something I lived by, I would have forgiven Dumbledore for all his discretions. Yet I find that I cannot. But I am willing to let him be, as long as he does not interfere in my matters."

"It does not seem like he agrees with you." Lucius returned to cutting his meat. "I cannot imagine Dumbledore would allow your cousin to live his life without his influence."

"He has had no choice in the matter," Potter tapped the table top, and Lucius was reminded of the scene with the elf earlier. He wondered if the tapping was not a nervous habit indicating the level of agitation Potter experienced. The elf's reaction to it seemed to confirm it. "But Harry will soon be of age to begin at Hogwarts, and should he attend he will be under the influence of the Headmaster, and that is not something I am willing to accept lightly."

"There are other schools," Lucius suggested.

"Harry wants to go to Hogwarts," Potter replied as if the boy's desire was the law, and Lucius couldn't stop the laugh that escaped him. "Yes, I know, I spoil the boy." Potter answered, with an easy smile. "I have no excuse, other than that it is unlikely I will ever have children of my own."

"You have no desire to marry?" Lucius asked.

"No, nor the inclination," Potter replied, tilting his head. "But that should not come as a surprise to you."

Suddenly the angle in which Potter's head was tilted made the smile on his lips appear softer and inviting, the room felt too small and the wine too strong. Every word and movement the other man had made from the moment they had met was cast in a different light, and the meaning behind some of them changed drastically.

Lucius felt trapped, and it was only made worse by Potter's laughter. Even it had changed from a simple sound to a sensation that flowed through Lucius and caused him to shiver. "Do not look so frightened," Potter said, keeping his voice light. "I honestly thought you had realised," he frowned. "Do not worry. I have no intention of approaching the matter with you." There was a hint of disappointment in the man's voice, and for some reason that disappointment brightened Lucius' mood, made him heady with excitement, and that is what he blamed his next words on.

"Why not?"

The words seemed to run through Potter like a shockwave, and his eyes narrowed on Lucius with unnerving precision. "We've been here before," Potter said and stood. "And I warned you then," he circled the table, keeping Lucius pinned down with his eyes. "I'll not do so again."

Potter's smile was just as slow as the movement of his hand as he reached out and grasped hold of Lucius' chin. He looked pleased, more than he had right to be in Lucius' opinion. "You keep that expression on your face, and I'm going to think you didn't have this planned all along," Lucius drawled out and stood, almost pressing himself against the other man, forcing Potter to slide his arm across Lucius' shoulder and tilt his head up so they could still maintain eye contact. It was odd that Lucius only now noticed that Potter was shorter than him.

"I didn't," Potter answered, leaning back over the table, reached behind him and picked up Lucius' glass. "But I can't say that I'm displeased." He took a sip of Lucius' wine, lounging against the table with confidence seemingly born of nothing but arrogance.

Lucius took the glass from his fingers and placed it back on the table, far enough so Potter couldn't reach it. He then placed his arms on both side of Potter and leaned closer. Potter leaned back, further away from Lucius' approaching mouth until he was almost lying on top of the table.

Lucius curved his arm around Potter's waist, pulled the man up and pressed his mouth against his neck. To his aggravation, Lucius found that Potter's heart beat steadily, and far too slowly, as if there was nothing out of the ordinary in the situation.

Suddenly the pulse under Lucius' tongue peaked and he was flipped over, his wrists imprisoned by Potter's hands, the other man straddling him. Potter's feral grin was sharp as the edge of a knife, but instead of frightening him, it only made Lucius feel smug.

And just when he thought things were going to get interesting, Potter stiffened and his eyes glazed over, as if something had just occurred to him. His mouth twisted into an ugly sneer and he muttered, "Damn."

Potter released him and stepped back, his attention already on something other than the room they were in, or on Lucius. "I'm going to have to go," Potter informed him in a dull tone.

Furious that the man would simply disregard him so easily, Lucius grabbed hold of Potter's arm, tugged him close and practically snarled, "You think you can just leave?"

Potter grinned without any humour, and pulled his arm free. "Yes," he snapped sharply. "But don't think this is over, or that I even want to go. It's just that some things… are more important." With that Potter strode out, leaving Lucius just as frustrated as the last time he'd watched the man leave a room. Though this time, the reason for his frustration was completely different.

His irritation was only heightened once he realized Potter had left without paying.

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Hadrian appeared near the Weasley family home, his hair tugged firmly to the folds of his dark cloak that now covered every inch of him, hiding the expensive robes and everything else that could have given away his identity.

He crouched low behind a bush and settled on waiting. The wards he had set around the property had alerted him that Pettigrew was finally making his move and leaving the relative safety of the Weasley home. It was likely that the news of the Azkaban deaths had spurred this reaction.

The demise of the Death Eaters had been planned, but Sirius Black's death was an unfortunate occurrence that, if he could have, he would have avoided. And that is why he was determined to catch Pettigrew. It wouldn't make up for the loss of life, but it would be something to have the man declared innocent.

It should have frightened him that he wasn't concerned about being responsible for Black's death, yet he couldn't muster the effort it would require for him to feel pangs of guilt. He had sacrificed much, and part of the price had been some of his humanity. He could still enjoy and gain pleasure from some things, but his guilt and compassion were now tempered and held back by cold calculation and logic.

He was pulled from his musings by a rustling in another nearby bush, and soon a rat scurried out in to the open. The rodent stopped, its whickers quivered as it turned its small head from side to side to make sure it was alone, and finally it transformed into a twitching and trembling bald man with hunched shoulders.

Silently Hadrian stepped from behind the shelter of the bush and before Pettigrew could even turn he had fired a silent stunner at his back.

Hadrian walked over to the unconscious man and kicked him to the side none too gently. He scoffed and folded his arms. This was why he had left Lucius? The rat could have at least put up a fight.

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The Ministry of Magic's atrium was quiet in the early hours of the evening, when the Ministry had just closed. The only thing moving was the security guard who was attempting to stave of boredom by juggling three conjured yellow rubber balls.

He wasn't having much success so far. Doing things the muggle way was hard. A few spells and the balls would have been doing loopholes in the air, but to try and keep them airborne with no magic? It was a lot more difficult than his eight-year old made it seem.

A flash of light in the middle of the atrium, just in front of the fountain made the guard drop the balls and turn on his heels, his wand pointed at the disturbance.

The yellow rubber balls bumped and rolled away, one of them even hitting him on the leg, but the guard paid them no mind. He was far more interested in the small cage that contained a rat. Cautiously he inched closer to the cage and cast a few detection charms on the cage. He hummed when one of the results came back and informed him there was an animagus ward on the cage.

"Huh," he breathed. "So not a rat after all."

Leaving the cage where it was, the guard headed to his desk from where he could send a message to the Hit-Wizards that were working the nightshift. Somehow a rat being delivered to the Ministry in an animagus cage seemed like the sort of thing they should handle.

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Lucius spread the Daily Prophet open on the breakfast table and when he read the headline was glad that there was nothing in his mouth at the time. "Pettigrew's alive," Lucius spoke aloud to his wife and child.

"Who, darling?" Narcissa asked, momentarily distracted from her attempts to coax Draco into drinking milk, which the boy took advantage of by handing the glass to the house elf.

"The Potters' secret keeper, apparently. It seems Black was innocent." At the bottom right corner of the paper he noticed the promised article about a scandal in the ministry concerning The-Boy-Who-Lived and his guardian. "I always thought it a tad suspicious that your cousin would betray his friends."

"To be proven innocent just after he has been killed," Narcissa mused. "How tragic."

"How convenient," Lucius added his own musings, remembering Potter's sudden departure last night, and then chuckled in delight as the more in-depth article revealed a far more interesting detail. "He's been living as a rat under Weasley's nose this whole time! It'll be a miracle if Weasley doesn't get at least demoted for this."

"A rat?" Narcissa questioned, her nose scrunching in disgust. "Why on earth for?"

"He's an animagus. So was Black apparently."

"Hmm," Narcissa hummed. "It seems the Marauders are down to one."

Lucius raised an eyebrow at the name. He remembered Snape cursing about Potter and his friends, yet he had never thought his wife would have paid attention to such childishness. From what he remembered, they had been a ruthless gang, not really caring who they targeted in their pranks, and Black had been Narcissa's cousin. It was to be expected that she would be well informed of his actions, no matter how demeaning for the family.

"It was a shame about Regulus," Narcissa lamented. "He was such a bright boy, much more suited to carry on the Black name than Sirius."

"Not bright enough to protect himself from the Dark Lord," Lucius snapped, irritated at Narcissa's sudden desire to dig up old ghosts.

"And to think that the Black name will be forgotten, and the estate in the hands of a half-blood," Narcissa continued and Lucius staved off his desire to utter a suffering groan. "Not much better than a blood traitor!"

"Narcissa, please," Lucius pleaded, but his voice was laced with ice. "You want someone to blame, blame your Aunt Walburga for not making a will. This wouldn't have been a problem if she'd named Draco as the heir."

"You know it wasn't Aunt Walburga's fault," Narcissa almost shrieked. "She had no control over who inherited, it was all controlled by Uncle Orion. It was in the marriage contract. Besides, the Blacks are an old family, they would have never accepted an heir not sired by a Black."

"Well they accepted Potter," Lucius muttered.

"They did, didn't they," Narcissa murmured, seemingly distracted by this oddity. Eventually she shrugged. "Well no matter. Kreacher was a horrible creature even when I was a child, and I doubt he's improved. And the state of Grimmauld place…" she shook her head. "We're better off, in the end."

Lucius snorted. A fortune, millions, billions of galleons, and they were better off?

He looked over the table at his son who graced his father with a cocky smirk, almost a mirror of his own. "Drink your milk, son," Lucius, grabbed with a sudden vindictiveness, said. If he could not read his morning paper in relative peace, he could at least gain some entertainment this morning.

Just as Draco was about open his mouth and no doubt lie about already drinking his milk, a full glass appeared at his elbow. Lucius raised his eyebrow and Draco scowled.

You did not say no to a Malfoy, even if you were a Malfoy.

As he relished in his milk flavoured victory over his son, Lucius' thoughts were brought back to last night, and Potter. There was no doubt in his mind that his sudden departure was connected with today's headline. It was too big of a coincidence for Potter's time of departure and the time of Pettigrew's capture to coincide so closely together. According to the Prophet, Pettigrew had left the Weasley house at almost exactly the same time as Potter had fled from the inn. So, wards around the property that informed Potter when specific people crossed them?

Yet the question of how Potter had known about Pettigrew remained. Even Lucius had not known of him, and he had been one of the Dark Lord's most trusted.

The only other explanation was that somehow Potter had gained access to Black while he was in prison and had heard his story. But how had he captured Pettigrew, known where he had been hiding?

It could have been pure chance, but somehow Lucius doubted it. With Black dead there was no way to know. In fact Potter gained much from Black's death. It wouldn't be hard for a wizard of Potter's skill to poison the food deliveries to Azkaban, or place one of the guards under _Imperius_. The other deaths might have been nothing more but mere diversions.

But what was Potter's motivation besides gaining the Black fortune? There had to be more, if he really was behind Pettigrew's capture.

Lucius folded the newspaper and considered the possibility that he was nothing more than another pawn in Potter's game. The man's speech of free will had felt sincere, but didn't necessarily mean anything. He could just be a very convincing liar.

The thought of being used by Potter left a bitter taste in his mouth. If Potter was playing him he needed to be more careful. He'd made it easy, too easy for the man. Folding down after one attempt at seduction, and not even a very artful one at that. Potter had only needed to crook his finger and Lucius had keeled over with his tongue hanging out of his mouth.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** So, I have no beta-reader, thus, no one to tell me if I make a mistake, have a typo, or otherwise write something totally unbelievable. I am relying completely on the reviews.

Comments, critique, opinions, all welcomed and appreciated.

* * *

Choosing a broom, Hadrian thought, should not be this difficult. And it would not have been, had he been shopping for himself, but Harry's Birthday was in less than a week and he still had nothing for the boy.

And there was the added torment of a memory of receiving a beautiful Firebolt, a broom not yet even manufactured, as a gift from his godfather. The fact that he was now buying a broom as a present for Harry Potter, just as Sirius Black had done once upon a time, awakened feelings he had thought gone.

He considered leaving the store, hiding himself in a dark corner and screaming and crying. Yet despite the unexpected and slightly annoying twinges of shame and guilt, he felt nothing more. Still something prevented him from making a choice and choosing a broom for Harry. It was not his place to gift Harry with a broom. That privilege belonged to his godfather.

Cursing Hadrian turned on his heels and strode out of the store. He would simply have to buy something else for the boy. Harry had used Hadrian's broom so far, he could still keep doing so. And once he was older Harry could buy his own broom with his allowance. It would teach him responsibility and something about money if he had to pay for it himself.

Hadrian knew they were only excuses, but he could not buy a broom for Harry, not after what he had done.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost ran into someone, and when a hand reached out to steady him Hadrian had to force himself to not strike out and twist the supporting arm. But the violent impulse returned soon enough when the hand did not retreat, and the fingers dug almost painfully into his left shoulder.

Hadrian lifted his head, a snarl ready on his lips, but it died down when he was faced with the smouldering gaze of steely grey eyes. "Lucius," he breathed the man's name and almost sucked in a deep breath at the man's raised eyebrow and a mocking smirk.

They were back to that, were they?

"I suppose you want an explanation for last week?" Hadrian asked, remembering all too well the way Lucius had looked sprawled under him on the dining table.

"No need," Lucius drawled, retrieving his hand. "I read all I needed from the Prophet the next morning."

Hadrian frowned, momentarily confused at what Lucius meant. When he realized Lucius was referring to Pettigrew, and not some fabricated exposure of a sordid affair with a rent boy, he fought to keep the confused expression on his face. "Truly?" he asked dryly, matching Lucius' raised eyebrow with one of his own. "I do not recall taking an add informing the public of my movements."

"You might as well have done," Lucius scoffed, and there was something strange in his eyes. At first, Hadrian wasn't sure what it was because he had never seen it on Lucius' face, but he had glimpsed at it more than once on the face of the man's son.

Lucius was insecure. Why, exactly, he couldn't tell, but finding out should prove to be interesting. "We could go and finish our dinner now, if you like. Though it's a bit early for dinner, so maybe lunch?"

Lucius looked uncertain again, but this time the reason was easy to conclude. His wife and son had just stepped out of Malkin's. "Not lunch, but… perhaps dinner."

"I'll send the time and place through owl," Hadrian confirmed and glanced at the pale, yet perfectly healthy Mrs Malfoy. "Enjoy your shopping trip," he smiled, making sure to keep just the right amount of suggestive pleasure in the curve of his lips.

The corner of Lucius' mouth twitched, but there was nothing positive in the movement. Lucius wasn't trying to hide a smile, he was trying not to snarl.

Once his back was turned Hadrian frowned and hastened to leave Diagon. Something had changed dramatically between them, and the cause of it was Pettigrew. How could Lucius even know to suspect him? And why would that cause him to react like this?

Hadrian shook his head, deciding not to dwell on it for now. Who knew what plots a man so deeply paranoid as Lucius was concocting in his head.

Hadrian stepped inside the Leaky and was once again confronted with a familiar face, though this one he had only seen in his previous life, and truthfully had hoped to never again even glimpse at. It was too soon after Sirius. To be confronted with Remus and his kind and unassuming manner proved to be almost too much, and Hadrian had to turn his face away and press his palm against his eyes. He drew in a deep breath, then a second, and when he finally felt composed enough, turned around and headed for the fireplace.

He never made it. Tom lifted his head and once he noticed Hadrian he shouted, "Hello Mr Potter!"

That name alone was enough to draw Lupin's attention like a slab of bloody meat in water would draw a shark. The brown eyes narrowed on Hadrian, and Lupin quickly made his way through the crowd and stepped in front of Hadrian. "Hadrian Potter?" he asked with a breathless voice, sounding desperate to hear the answer. Hadrian, more unnerved than anything wished he could have answered with a negative, but knew he couldn't, not with so many people that knew who he was around them, looking, listening.

"Yes?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Remus Lupin," Lupin said, proffering his hand for Hadrian to shake.

He shook the hand and gave slight nod of his head. "Nice to meet you, Mr Lupin."

"I, well," Lupin stammered for a moment, but then seemed to muster his courage. "I don't know if you're aware of this, but I was at school with James Potter, and we were friends long after that. And I was wondering…" he licked his lips. "How's Harry?"

Hadrian glanced around and saw that they had the attention of most of the pub's clientele. He glanced around him and nodded towards a booth well away from prying ears. "Perhaps we should discuss this in a more private setting," he suggested and once Lupin had nodded directed him towards the booth.

They sat down, facing each other, Hadrian with his front to Tom, who he signalled to bring them something to drink. It was a sign of how well known and respected Hadrian was at the pub that Tom bothered to head from behind the bar and place two butterbeers in front of them and even greeted Lupin by name, saving Hadrian from the trouble of having to ask for confirmation about the man's identity. When Lupin tried to pay, Hadrian waved him off, telling Tom to add the cost of the drinks to his tab.

"You wanted to ask about Harry," Hadrian prompted, leaning back and letting his eyes drift through the crowd of the pub

"Is he handling all this well?" Lupin asked, grimacing a little.

Hadrian shrugged and took a sip of his butterbeer. "As well as anyone in his situation would," Hadrian answered. "It isn't every day you hear that you have a godfather who died in prison, whom you've inherited a fortune from, and who's been falsely imprisoned."

"A fortune?" Lupin asked, frowning. "So Sirius did inherit his parents. I always thought they'd disinherited him when he left…" he trailed off and sighed. "It's all just a little much. It was hard enough to believe Sirius capable of betraying James and Lily, but for it to have been Peter. Little Peter! I would have never thought… And he's so different from the boy I remember…"

"You've been to see him?" Hadrian asked, surprised.

"I had to," Lupin answered. "I needed to hear him say it, that he had betrayed them, I needed to know why."

"And did you?" Hadrian asked. "Did he tell you why?"

Lupin shook his head, but not in denial. "He was afraid," Lupin muttered, and lifted his eyes and locked them with Hadrian. "But we were all afraid then. There were Death Eaters everywhere, you couldn't trust anyone. And when Sirius was arrested I never even questioned it, no matter how impossible it seemed. I always just figured that blood will out." Lupin hung his head in shame. "I will never forgive myself for not believing in him."

There was commotion on the entrance to the Alley and they both turned to see the Malfoy family step inside the pub. An empty space soon gathered around them, born more out of fear than respect, but the motivation didn't seem to bother Lucius or his wife as long as it produced the required result. The son on the other hand was preening under the attention, smirking and puffing his chest.

"Lucius Malfoy," Lupin nearly growled, the low voice enough to draw in Lucius' attention to them. "How he got free I'll never understand. If he was under Imperious, I'm a welsh terrier."

Hadrian chuckled at the image of a were-terrier. He was sure Lupin had not intended to hint at him being a werewolf, but the imagery was too hilarious for him to ignore.

"Money let's you get away with a multitude of sins," Hadrian commented and followed with half lidded eyes as Lucius with his family in tow made his way to the fireplace. "We were just lucky that there weren't more wealthy Death Eaters with the same influence and cunning as Lucius Malfoy."

"Lucky, yes," Lupin muttered and turned away form the departing family as they stepped into the floo. "I don't suppose you'll be willing to tell me why you're willingly associating with him?"

Hadrian frowned at Lupin and the sudden suspicion filling the man's face. "What do you mean?"

"Dumbledore mentioned that you're quite chummy with Malfoy," Lupin replied cautiously, clearly aware of the uneven ground he was treading on. Hadrian pondered on whether to point out that it was none of Lupin's business who he associated with, but then decided it was pointless. Lupin had lived through a war he had not, had probably even faced Lucius on the battlefield more than once. It was understandable that he would worry about Harry's guardian making friends with the enemy.

"Only lunch," Hadrian replied with a shrug, dismissing the matter easily. "He was a convenient excuse, and a preferable choice to Dumbledore's company."

Lupin smiled wryly. "He did mention that you've been reluctant to meet with him."

"I have my reasons," Hadrian replied, but then decided to elaborate for Lupin. "The 'home', and I do say that word lightly when I refer to it, he placed Harry was atrocious. For one thing, they kept him locked in a cupboard and hardly let him out. I shudder to think what would have happened to the boy had he been left there, and the first letter I ever received from Dumbledore was a strict worded demand to return the boy to their care."

Lupin looked stunned and slightly horrified. "Dumbledore would never-"

"Oh, he had his reasons," Hadrian ploughed on before Lupin had a chance to finish his sentence. "Blood wards around the home to keep the boy safe from harm. But he never considered what it would do to the boy's psyche to be raised in such a hateful and neglecting environment. Or, the far more likely possibility, he knew exactly what it would do to the boy."

Lupin let out a heavy sigh. "After hearing that, I can certainly understand why you don't like Dumbledore." He fiddled with the label on the bottle. "But he tries his best to do what's right, always has."

"I just don't have much faith in what he seems to think is the right thing," Hadrian answered. "Harry is my family, and I will not allow him to be tormented by magic hating muggles, or over-interfering Headmasters."

Remus hummed and placed the bottle on the table, folding his hands instead of letting them shred the label. "James mentioned you a few times when we were younger," he said, and Hadrian hoped he wouldn't have to kill Lupin. He rather liked the man. "He was jealous of you, for being allowed to travel all over the world, lead great adventures. When the war got really heated, he thought about it, how easy it was for you, compared to him, stuck in Britain with a family to protect from a maniac." Lupin laughed with a tired smile. "But he wouldn't have exchanged Lily and Harry for all the freedom in the world."

"It wasn't all sunshine and roses," Hadrian answered cautiously. "I was wondering around muggle US for most of the war with no idea it was even happening." He shrugged. "I'd like to think that I would have been here, if I hadn't been wandering without my memories. And after they returned, it was a shock to learn what had happened. That my cousin had had a child who was now an orphan." Lupin's compassionate gaze confirmed what he had already known. He was a very convincing liar.

How things had changed from when he was still a kid. There had been a time when he couldn't have lied to save his life, and even the thought of killing a monster like Voldemort had given him nightmares.

He should have been sickened by what he'd turned into.

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The thought of using the Black house for a clandestine meeting with Lucius Malfoy had entered Hadrian's brain, and stayed firmly rooted there from the second they had shook hands after the meeting at the Ministry where his ownership of the house had been confirmed.

There was a certain dark humour in it. Having Lucius under the roof of a house in which his wife had most likely spent a great amount of time as a child. The amusement was only deepened by the fact that it was a house Lucius had firmly believed he would own until only a week ago.

It was far from romantic, he admitted, but neither of them was interested in romance. The house, no matter how grim and foreboding, was convenient, and that was all they needed. And Kreacher, once he'd been dispelled of his belief that his masters were blood traitors or muggle-lovers had gladly cleaned the house, and after Hadrian had destroyed the locket he was even pleased to be working for them.

It would take a little more time and effort to make Kreacher into the same devoted creature he remembered, but he was confident of his success, and even though madness still lurked in the corners of Grimmauld Place, it was quickly receding. In time the house would be transformed into a place where you could live without worrying that something might bite off your fingers.

Hadrian trailed his fingers along the walls, smiling ruefully when he came upon the spot that held the portrait of Walburga Black. He would need to do something about it soon. It was too much work keeping the curtains closed and the madwoman contained by the folds of the deep red velvet.

The doorbell rang, and the curtains covering the painting twitched, but held. He smirked and moved to the front door pulling it open and greeting Lucius with a wide smile. "Welcome to Grimmauld Place, the family home of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black."

Lucius' lips twitched, but this time Hadrian was certain Lucius was suppressing a smile. "You do realize how tactless this is?" he asked, stepping in and taking in the front hall, his eyes stopping briefly at the curtain covered painting, the fabric twitching madly, trying to free itself from the ties Hadrian had woven with his magic.

"I suspect it would have been worse had I invited you to a muggle hotel," Hadrian replied and extended his arm for Lucius' cloak. "I'm quite certain you would have died of mortification. And here at least we'll have some privacy."

"You do realize what this house means to me?" Lucius pulled off his cloak and handed it to Hadrian who hung it on the coat rack. He was about to turn and reply, when he felt Lucius press against his back, trapping him against the wall.

Hadrian bent his head back so he could rest it against Lucius' shoulder, his arms reaching behind and above his head to encircle Lucius' neck so he could pull the other man's head down and press their lips together. It was an uncomfortable position, but the kiss was still everything Hadrian had hoped for.

Lucius' lips were hard and demanding, and the hand firmly holding Hadrian's chin gave much needed support that kept him in place and prevented him from being pushed down. Lucius' other hand, the one not resting against Hadrian's neck, tore his robe open with a swift move and slithered under his shirt, finally reaching bare, heated skin. Hadrian twisted his lower body so their fronts were pressed together and placed his palms against Lucius chest, but instead of pushing back, he slid his hands down and let them rest on the man's hips.

Hadrian tore his mouth from the other man's, and breathing unevenly he said, "The master bedroom's ready, if you want to go upstairs."

"What's wrong with here?" Lucius asked, twisting his fingers in Hadrian's hair and coiling the strands of dark hair around his fist so tightly that Hadrian had to tilt his head back.

"I don't want to risk waking dear Walburga," Hadrian grinned, glancing at the still moving curtains behind them.

Lucius glanced at the curtains and hummed in agreement. "You might have a point." He then dove down to steal another kiss from Hadrian's lips, this one sweet, gentle and brief. "I suppose you'll just have to stay very, very quiet," he hushed over Hadrian's lips and trailed one finger over the line of his jaw.

Hadrian laughed breathlessly and leaned lazily against the wall. "Now who's being tactless?" he asked and was forced to stifle his admittedly girlish scream when Lucius lifted his legs and wrapped them around his waist.

"I am simply following my host's example," Lucius replied with a smirk, letting his hand trail from Hadrian's knee, down to his thigh.

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Lucius lay on his side, his head leaning on his hand, the fingers of his other hand combing through the other man's long dark hair, as silky as his own, yet rougher. Every single part of the man's body was rough; his edges sharp and powerful, defined muscles hard under his touch.

Unyielding was the word that now came to Lucius when he thought of Potter. He had thought the man to be synonymous to dangerous and powerful, and though he still was those things, they had both been overshadowed by the single-minded determination that the core of Potter's being seemed to consist of.

Even in sleep, as he now was, Potter looked not one bit softer or more likely to yield or bend to anyone else's will. He was like a spring storm, capable of great destruction and terrible beauty that once passed left in its wake fresh air and the smell of ozone. Were you not careful you could easily get caught in the storm and be blinded by its beauty, mesmerized by its entirety, so enthralled that you forgot to breath.

If he was not careful, Potter might very well be the end of him.

"What are you thinking?" Potter's voice asked sleepily and Lucius turned his head to see one green eye peer at him from midst a sea of dark hair.

"What an utter disaster this could turn out to be," Lucius replied with honesty.

"The same could be said of everything we do." Potter yawned, stretching his hands over his head, shamelessly displaying his body by curving his back, the white lines of old scars contrasting harshly against his pale skin. New pink lines, thin and already fading, left there by Lucius, were a splash of colour amongst all that pale flesh. "Life's either a nightmare or an adventure, depending on how we choose to live. And if you're really determined, then I suppose you could turn it into a really boring recount of drying paint."

Potter pushed hair form his face and turned both his eyes on him. "So, any opinion yet? Nightmare, adventure, or drying paint?"

Lucius regarded the question more seriously than he would have wanted. But he had not forgotten his suspicions of Potter, and there was every chance that every single word that passed through the man's pale pink lips were a lie, no matter how sweet and convincing they sounded. Each moment he spent with Potter he had to remind himself not to take everything the man said at face value, and when he felt his conviction waver he dragged back the memory of the dark alley in Knockturn, and five men dying in the hands of a merciless and silent killer.

"One thing I can say for certain is that you shall never gain the entertainment value of drying paint." Lucius eventually settled on a compromise where he did not have to commit to an opinion, even if it was only in the confines of his own mind. He felt safer when all was still undecided, when Potter was not yet declared an ally or an enemy, but still possessed the possibilities of becoming either.

Gifting him with a lazy, arrogant and a thoroughly contented smile, Potter reached up and cupped the back of Lucius' head and twisted his fingers in the pale, nearly white hair. "Even if this turns out to be a nightmare," Potter said, angling his head so he could whisper directly to Lucius' ear. "I much prefer it to any adventure."

Spoken in Potter's silken voice, the words sounded like a proclamation of love, uttered in the heat of the moment; impulsive and brash, yet undoubtedly truthful.

If this was deceit, Lucius decided, as soft kisses were pressed on his face and mouth, no one could fault him for believing it.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** I adore, and I do mean adore, Comments, Critique, Opinions, reviews of all kind.

**Beta: **Crazylioness21**

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Hadrian picked up the paper from the table, frowned at the date, yesterday's, and sat down to read it.

He had been out of the country for almost a week, and the only news he had received from Britain were phone calls from Harry. Even if the boy read the Daily Prophet, it was doubtful he would understand the significance of the news on the front page.

"Morning Ria!" Harry yelled, storming into the kitchen, grinning like a lunatic when he spotted the pancakes Hadrian had made for breakfast.

"Must you mangle my name such?" Hadrian asked, grimacing.

"What's wrong with Ria?" Harry asked, wide eyed and falsely innocent, before turning to get a plate from above the sink and piling pancakes on it.

"It's girly," Hadrian replied, his face all seriousness. Yet for some reason his proclamation had Harry giggling.

"I've always called you Ria," Harry protested sitting down across him, the sun glinting of his oval shaped glasses.

"And that was fine when you were a kid and couldn't pronounce Hadrian properly, but you've now been ten for almost a whole month."

"You're Ria," Harry said, in a tone that forbade all arguments to the contrary, and like always Hadrian sighed and let Harry have his way.

"Hurry up with breakfast," he told the boy. "I'm walking you to school."

Harry stilled, the fork halfway to his mouth. "Something in the paper?" he asked.

Hadrian folded it and shook his head. "Nothing," he replied, but Harry still looked suspicious. "I'll take care of it. I promise."

"I know you will," Harry answered, his smile wide and trusting.

Hadrian had always taken care of everything. Sometimes Harry still dreamed of the time when he hadn't had Hadrian and slept in a cupboard and was yelled at by a bony woman and a fat man. At times he wasn't sure that the dreams weren't just that, dreams and not memories. But then he would look through his photo album and come across a photograph of his mother when she was young, and of the bony woman standing beside her, and would know not all bad things were like the monsters under his bed – imaginary.

Harry waited until Hadrian finished his coffee and left to get dressed before taking the paper and unfolding it before him. There was only one headline that sounded serious, and he didn't understand why it would worry Hadrian. How could it affect them if Bartemius Crouch and his house elf were killed?

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Hogsmeade hadn't changed in all the years Hadrian had seen it. The shops that he had noticed on his first visit were all there, just as they had always been, and so was the dog tied to the yard of one house, and that one dead tree at the start of the path leading to the Shrieking Shack.

"Potter!"

Hadrian turned to the direction of the shout, the hem of his robe swishing against the ground, the movement disturbing the dry sand and lifting it from the ground. "Mr Malfoy," Hadrian replied, his eyes narrowed and searching through the crowd, looking for a face that was just as familiar as Lucius', yet for far different reasons. So focused was he on finding the threat, that he almost missed it when Lucius stepped closer.

"Are you alright?" Lucius asked, what seemed like true worry showing on his face.

"I am fine," Hadrian answered, pushing back the few strands of hair that had fallen before his eyes. "Why are you here?" he asked, trying to not sound as suspicious as he felt.

Lucius lifted a pink box next to his face. "Puddifoot's pastries. Narcissa insists on having them for tea every afternoon, and more often than not she makes me fetch them."

Hadrian looked at the box, then at Lucius' face, searching for something in the other man's face that would reveal if he was lying, or nervous. It could have been possible that Crouch had somehow succeeded in pressuring Lucius, using his family or something else against him. But logically he wouldn't need to, since they were both still loyal Death Eaters.

"And you?" Lucius asked, and Hadrian blinked at him, causing Lucius to frown worriedly. "Are you sure you're fine? You look… worried."

Hadrian laughed, trying to sound casual, but suspected he only managed to sound hysterical. "No, I'm not worried," Hadrian answered with a grin. "You should probably return to your wife before the pastries dry out, or something other, what ever it is that pastries do."

Lucius looked even more worried now, and despite the people milling around them he reached out and placed a hand on Hadrian's shoulder. "You're something," Lucius said. "I don't think I've ever before seen you distressed. Nothing has happened to your cousin, has it?"

Hadrian shook his head and though he knew it was stupid did not shake off Lucius' hand from his shoulder, and even leaned into the touch. "You really should go," he repeated, almost whispering. "This isn't the wisest action you could take, fondling your lover in the middle of a busy street."

Lucius scoffed but miraculously did not remove his hand. "I am hardly fondling you," he sneered.

"You will be by the time the gossip reaches your wife," Hadrian replied with a wink that almost held his old cheeriness. "It is also quite probable that I have morphed into a dainty witch."

Lucius' lips twitched in the manner that indicated he was suppressing a smile. "Anyone that would describe you as dainty is sorely in need of correcting their eyesight." He removed his hand and frowned. "Are you going to answer me?"

"What do you mean?" Hadrian asked, genuinely confused.

"Why are you in Hogsmeade?"

As Hadrian doubted Lucius would understand if he told the man he was attempting to flush out a Death Eater that the whole world supposed dead, he shrugged and lied. "Trying to find something interesting to waste my time on."

Lucius opened his mouth, clearly preparing to say something, but Hadrian noticed the glow of a spell heading towards the man from across the street and reached out and pulled Lucius forward by gripping the front of his robe, and then pushed him down. He covered his own and Lucius' head as grovel and pieces of wood rained down on them from a missed _Reducto_ curse that had nearly destroyed the front of the store, before which they had stood.

"Which one are they after?" Lucius asked, taking out his wand and searching for the enemy from amongst the rapidly thinning crowd.

"Before, I would have said me, but he was aiming for your head," Hadrian answered, and threw up a shield just in time to prevent another curse from hitting either them.

"He?" Lucius asked, standing. "You know who it is?"

Hadrian pulled him behind a corner so they were at least for now protected from any attacks. "Not for certain," Hadrian answered, glancing at Lucius. "Not now, anyway."

"You doubt his identity because they attacked me?" Lucius asked, and when Hadrian nodded Lucius let his back sag against the wall. "You think it's an- a Death Eater." Lucius was certain Hadrian had realized he had almost said another Death Eater, but the man simply nodded, verifying that he did not merely suspect Lucius' involvement with the Dark Lord in the war. "Who?" Lucius asked, causing Hadrian to turn his head to face him. "If you tell me who it is, I might know him. I could tell you what he's likely to do." When Hadrian still hesitated, he added, "Trust me."

Hadrian laughed, and a curse almost singed the sleeve of his robe. Pulling his hand closer Hadrian cursed, grabbed hold of Lucius and pulled the other man with him as he ran deeper to the alley and towards another one, hoping to find shelter. "Trust you?" Hadrian asked, and pushed Lucius so hard that he stumbled back and nearly fell.

"I have no desire to ally myself with someone attempting to kill me," Lucius said, following Hadrian as the man pulled open a door that led to the back of some store. "If you do not trust me, then at least trust my instincts of self preservation."

Hadrian hardly paid any attention to him, and only briefly glanced around the store's backroom, filled with sacks and boxes. He was standing beside the door, observing the street from the crack. "I'm not sure you actually know anything useful about him," Hadrian answered, his eyes peeled on the crack.

"You can't be sure," Lucius said, fisting his hands. "Who is it?"

Hadrian glanced out one last time, and then turned to face him, emotionless, the complete opposite of the man Lucius had come to know in these past weeks. "Crouch Jr," Hadrian finally answered, and then smiled tightly when Lucius blanched.

"How do you always know these things?" Lucius asked, almost whispering, not for one moment doubting that Hadrian was telling the truth.

"What are you talking about?"

"Crouch, Pettigrew," Lucius listed. "Whose side are you on? And why would you kill Black if he really was innocent?"

It was Hadrian's turn to pale, and he left the door crack so he could press against Lucius and grasp him by the collar. "I'll ask again. What the hell are you talking about?" he whispered gently, yet with his eyes cold and emotionless.

"It was you, wasn't it?" Lucius kept his voice even, despite the menace emanating from the other man. "You somehow arranged for all those deaths in Azkaban, brought in Pettigrew. But it doesn't make sense. Why would you go that far simply for Black's money?"

Hadrian released him and staggered back, his lips twisted, his face contorted into a pained grimace. "His death was the last thing I wanted," Hadrian rasped, turned around and walked back to the door that exploded in his face.

Lucius stood frozen in his spot as Hadrian was thrown through the air and smashed against shelves, sending the various cans and bottles on them tumbling on the floor and piling on top of him. Lucius took a step towards the fallen man, but a third person stepping through the wreckage and stepping between them prevented him from approaching Hadrian.

"Lucius Malfoy," Crouch Jr. snarled out his name, his lips drawn back to a growl. "Traitor! Consorting with Potter and his like, living in luxury after betraying our master!" Crouch pointed at him with his wand, looking every bit the lunatic he had always been. Only one Death Eater had been more fanatic than him, and thankfully Lucius' sister-in-law was long dead.

"Crouch," Lucius replied, keeping his arms by his side, prepared to curse the man the moment his attention was on something else. "Why were you trying to kill me?"

"Why?" Crouch screamed, and behind him Lucius saw Hadrian's hand move. "Why? Because instead of prison you've been allowed to roam free, while I and others loyal to our master were sent to Azkaban!"

"I would have been of no use to anyone in Azkaban," Lucius said, trying to keep Crouch's attention on him, and allow Hadrian more time to recover from the blast. "It would have served no purpose to confess."

"You do not deserve to serve our master!" Crouch screamed and shouted a cutting curse, and it moved too fast for him to step out of the way. It hit him on the stomach, and Lucius doubled over and pressed his hands against the wound. Gasping from the pain he fell to his knees, and the last thing he heard before losing consciousness was another enraged scream from Crouch.

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As Lucius fell down, Hadrian pushed himself up and barrelled against Crouch, knocking him down. He pulled back his fist and hit Crouch on the back of his head, smiling darkly when he heard a snap, hoping it had been the man's neck.

Gasping Hadrian crawled to where Lucius was lying, and gently pulled the man's hands from the wound, grimacing at the amount of blood already seeped into the dark robes. He lifted a shaking hand to Lucius' pale face and with a strained voice, asked, "Why do I keep finding you unconscious?"

"Hey, what the hell is going on here?" A man stepped to the back from inside the store and stared wide eyed at the destruction and at the man lying on the floor.

"When the Hit-Wizards come, tell them I've gone to St Mungo's," Hadrian told the man, gathered Lucius in his arms and apparated them to the hospital. He did not even check if Crouch was still alive, and a possible threat.

As the Healers took Lucius from him, Hadrian thought for the first time that had he simply let Lucius die, he wouldn't have had to deal with his suspicions. Lucius had only guesses, but they were the dangerous kind. He should have let the man die, not rush him to a healer.

Dragging his blood covered hand across his face Hadrian chuckled weakly and leaned against the wall, exhausted. Sacrificing Sirius had been fine, but he did everything possible to avoid Lucius Malfoy's death when it would have benefited him?

He banged his head against the wall and stared up at the white ceiling and closed his eyes, only opening them when he felt someone standing before him. "Yes?" he asked the woman in healer robes.

"Do you need to see anyone?" she asked and when Hadrian only stared at him she elaborated. "The blood on your face and hands. Are you hurt?"

Hadrian looked at his hands and shook his head. "It's not mine."

"Perhaps you'd like to wash it?" she suggested and Hadrian shrugged, but followed the woman when she gestured towards the bathroom.

They were stopped when a pair of Aurors stepped into the lobby and spotted Hadrian, almost immediately heading for him. He turned to face them and waited, only slightly surprised that the Ministry had so quickly identified Crouch and known it was Auror business. Or perhaps it had been because Lucius was involved?

The other Auror looked familiar and it took only a few moments for Hadrian to place him. Kingsley. Still Dumbledore's man.

"Mr Potter?" Kingsley asked, and continued when Hadrian nodded. "Are you in any way connected to the incident at Hogsmeade?"

"Quite probably, yes," Hadrian answered. "I was having a conversation with Lucius Malfoy when someone began firing curses at us, so we ran."

"What did you discuss?" Kingsley asked, whipping out a notebook.

"What did we discuss?" Hadrian repeated, quirking an eyebrow. "I hardly see how that is relevant, and besides, I don't think I even remember."

Kingsley's companion, a slightly older man with messy dark hair and tired blue eyes gave a placating smile and took over for Kingsley. "What happened next, Mr Potter?"

"Mr Malfoy and I took shelter behind a corner, and when it seemed like the assailant was about to reach us we ran and hid in the back of a store," Hadrian narrated the events. "Not very well, though, because the door was blasted and I got thrown to a wall and blacked out for a time, I'm not sure for how long. When I woke Malfoy was pressing his hands against his stomach. Since I feared that my life would be in danger next, I tackled the attacker to the ground and hit him."

"And that is when the store owner came in to the back room?" the older man asked.

"Yes," Hadrian nodded. "Who was he anyway? The man that attacked us? And is he…" Hadrian paused and forced his eyes to lower to the floor. "Is he even alive?"

"He's dead," Kingsley told him and then shared an uneasy look with his partner. "We're not yet certain who he was," he continued with obvious hesitance, and it was obvious to Hadrian that both Aurors knew precisely who Hadrian had killed, even if neither was willing to admit it.

"I'm not in any trouble, am I?" Hadrian asked, knowing it was something people expected him to be worried about. "Because from what I saw, he was attempting to kill us both."

"No you're not in any trouble, Mr Potter," Kingsley's partner assured him. "But we may need to ask you to come to MLE if there's anything else we need to ask you about."

"Of course, just send an owl," Hadrian replied, trying to sound as sincere and helpful as he could.

When the Aurors finally left Hadrian found a chair and collapsed on it. He knew he should go home. There was no plausible explanation he could give anyone why he cared for what happened to Lucius Malfoy, but he couldn't force himself to get up and leave without finding out if Lucius would survive.

A Healer walked past, and Hadrian recognised him as one of the people that had taken Lucius. He stood up and approached the man. "Excuse me, but can you tell me how the man I brought in is doing?"

"We don't usually release information of our patients to anyone but family, Mr…?" the Healer frowned, his eyes darting to his face and hands.

"Potter," Hadrian answered. "I understand your position, healer, but I did bring him in, and if you could just tell me if he'll live…"

The Healer's face softened with compassion, and he nodded. "Mr Malfoy will recover, Mr Potter, though it will take some time. The curse penetrated his intestines, and stomach wounds aren't easy to heal. Do you require assistance?"

"It's not mine," Hadrian repeated what he'd told the witch earlier. "It's his blood."

The Healer nodded and left him alone.

Out of excuses to stay Hadrian cast one last look at the closed door leading to the part of the building where he knew Lucius was lying on a hospital bed, recovering from his injuries and apparated out and straight to a bathroom in Grimmauld Place. There was no way he would chance being seen covered in blood by Harry.

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It was a couple of days before the Aurors contacted him and asked him to come to the MLE offices. Bringing back the memory of his meeting with the two Aurors in St Mungo's lobby Hadrian went over what he had told them, and once satisfied he would not contradict himself, prepared to floo into the Ministry atrium.

Truthfully, the only way he would be in trouble was if Lucius spoke about any of his suspicions, but he doubted the man would do that. Lucius had nothing to gain from it, and no way to prove anything.

He stepped into the fireplace at his home, and stepped out of one in the Ministry. Brushing soot from his robes, Hadrian glanced around and froze on the spot when he noticed Lucius walking across the atrium. He followed the man's approach, noticing the slight hesitance in his steps and the pained lines on his forehead.

Suddenly Lucius stopped in his approach to the apparition point, and turned his eyes to him. Hadrian tilted his head, and waited. It was up to Lucius now whether to approach him or not. If Lucius walked away now, Hadrian was certain that would be the end of their involvement. Yet if Lucius came to him, he would demand answers, and Hadrian knew he could no longer deflect them. Lucius knew too much to be placated by vague hints.

Lucius' jaw clenched, and his hands, covered by gloves flexed at his sides. With a move so sudden that Hadrian could have sworn he heard the air snap, Lucius turned and headed for him. Tenseness Hadrian had not even realized existed fled from him, and he waited patiently for the man to reach him.

"We need to talk," Lucius said, just as Hadrian had predicted. "I want answers, and I'm entitled to them if not knowing gets me cut up."

Any other time Hadrian would have pointed out that it was because of the man's own choices Crouch had targeted him, not because of something Hadrian had done. "You will have them," Hadrian promised. "What did you tell the Aurors?"

"The truth," Lucius answered and Hadrian stiffened. "Our… conversation is no one's business. But I relayed the events just as they occurred."

"Good," Hadrian answered. "Then there should be no inconsistencies with what I've told them and your rendition of what happened."

Lucius nodded and glanced briefly around them. "I'll come to the house tonight, and I expect you to have some answers for me."

"There are things I can't tell you," Hadrian warned. "And you have no right to them. But you'll have the answers you want."

Lucius narrowed his eyes, but nodded finally, seemingly satisfied with that.

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Hadrian pulled off his robe and threw it on the couch, after which he gathered his hair on top of his head, fisted his hands in it and then let it fall back down. His hair a mess, dressed only in loose trousers and a black short sleeved tunic Hadrian walked from one end of the room to the other, casting anxious looks at the clock on top of the fireplace.

It had not even reached four o'clock yet, and he was already a nervous wreck. It did not bode well for the rest of the evening, especially when Lucius might decide to appear as late as eleven.

Hadrian knew he could have simply told Kreacher to inform him the moment Lucius arrived, but there was nothing for him to do at home, nothing to distract him. Harry was spending the night at a friend's house, and he didn't even have any paperwork to finish.

Rubbing his face with both hands Hadrian looked at the clock again. It had only been five minutes.

Grimacing he cast a look at the closed library door. He hadn't yet dared to enter the room, in spite of knowing that Kreacher had cleaned it.

He had sat in that room too many times with the Sirius of his past, talking, spending time with him.

Avoidance had never worked for him, why had he thought it would work better this time around? Better to simply march on, and get it over with.

Gathering his hair into a loose ponytail he squared his shoulders and walked over to the closed door. Taking in a deep breath he turned the door handle and opened the door. When nothing attacked him he stepped inside and took in the comfortable plush chairs and sturdy tables. Berating himself for his foolishness he closed the door behind him and risked a smile.

"Took you long enough," a gruff voice complained from the confines of a portrait.

Paling Hadrian turned to his right where a portrait of a teenage Sirius was grinning at him. "Shit," he muttered and leaned against the door he'd just closed.

"Nice work on mum's painting by the way, it's really appreciated. But can't say I agree with some of your choices. I mean Malfoy?" Sirius glared at him, but his face was soon split by a grin. "Though entertaining to watch, I have to admit. Who knew Malfoy could bend that far with that stick up his ass."

"I never knew there was a portrait of you in this house," Hadrian muttered.

"Yeah, Kreacher hauled me from the storage when he heard the little guy mentioning I was his godfather. The thing seems to have taken quite a shine for the kid." Sirius crossed his arms and leaned back against the fireplace painted behind him. "And that's another thing I found funny. Care to explain why Kreacher keeps messing with your name? He never calls you Hadrian, just master or master Potter, or sometimes when he's really distracted, I hear Harry."

Hadrian laughed with the desperation of a man facing their worst nightmare. He wanted to weep from both relief and desperation. All that time he wanted to talk to Sirius, he could have just told Kreacher to fetch his portrait. At one point in his life it would have helped so much, but now Sirius was little more than a nuisance. What murderer wanted the ghost of their victim haunting them?

"I killed you," Hadrian blurted out, wanting to hit himself. "Didn't mean to. You weren't supposed to die, but I told the guard to target the Death Eaters, and I forgot, can you fucking believe it I forgot everyone still thought you were one." He slumped down on the floor, eyes never leaving Sirius' painted face that had now grown not cold, but expectant, waiting for him to explain himself.

"I could have gotten you out of there any time I wanted," Hadrian continued with his confession, sliding down to the floor. "Any time. But I didn't want you out, free, because you would've wanted Harry, you would've asked questions. And I couldn't risk it, because what if you weren't the same? Not everything that happened there, is the same here. I found that out when I met Neville's mother and she spoke to me. So if that was different, how could I risk you being something else?" He swallowed, trying to gather saliva to his dry mouth. "And I was selfish," he whispered. "Without you I had everything. I had Harry, and I could make sure things turned out differently, better. I don't even need Dumbledore. Hell, I'm worse than Dumbledore!" Hadrian started hyperventilating, and in an attempt to stave off a panic attack he dropped his head between his knees and stayed in that position for a long time.

The clock in the next room striking four brought him out of his frozen state, and he turned back to the painting that was staring up at him with a stony face. "I'm not him, you know," it said. "So I can't absolve you from your sins even if I wanted to. And I'm not sure I would, because that," he gestured weakly at Hadrian and grimaced. "Because, damn."

Hadrian laughed and pushed off the floor. "I know you aren't," he smiled weakly. "But having a breakdown in front of you is a whole lot better than having Lucius witness one."

Sirius bent his neck, looking like he was thinking it over. "True," he finally admitted. "And to be truthful, what you did is hardly the worst crime this family has committed. Though I have to say I was expecting a little more from my godson no matter what reality he was from."

"Well that's what you get for giving up half your soul," Hadrian grinned weakly.

Sirius' eyes grew cold, and his voice when he next spoke had lost all its warmth. "And just when I was beginning to like you. Nothing but Dark Arts require something like that. You'll fit perfectly into the family."

Hadrian shrugged, not at all apologetic. "They fill the void, at least for a while," he answered sadly. "It wasn't always like that. But it was either half my soul, or kill Harry to get the Horcrux out of him. And I'm not Dumbledore enough to raise one orphan boy to sacrifice himself for the world."

Some of the coldness disappeared from Sirius at his words. "I bet you've got quite the story to tell," Sirius said and then tilted his head. "I think I hear dear mother. Blondie's here."

Hadrian placed a hand on the door handle, and then turned back to the painting. "I'll come back."

"I'm not going anywhere," Sirius pointed out.

Hadrian nodded and pushed open the door and stepped out, leaving the painting to its thoughts and steeling himself for another draining conversation. Though now that he had talked with Sirius, or at least his painting, he felt much more confident about facing Lucius.

When he closed the library door, Lucius had already made his way to the room, and had settled down on a chair, sprawled out, with his light green robes and long blond hair arranged to enhance the careless air of elegance he gave out and that Hadrian knew to be carefully calculated.

He considered the image Lucius made, sitting on that chair like it was a throne, and he the master of the house awaiting for Hadrian step forward to plead his mercy. They made the perfect opposites. Hadrian with his dark hair and clothes, his hair messily tied back, and Lucius with his light coloured robe, meticulously arranged blond hair and carefully blank expression.

Slowly Hadrian closed the distance between them, his every move calculated to draw in the other man's eyes to the counters of his body. When he reached the chair Lucius sat in, he gracefully dropped to his knees, laid his hands on top of Lucius' where they rested on the chair and slid them up his arms to his shoulders, enjoying the way the grey eyes devoured every movement he took and narrowed down to the curve of his neck, and rising to his lips that parted before his gaze.

He brought out his tongue to wet his lips and smirked when Lucius lifted his hand and closed his fingers around Hadrian's jaw. Lucius lifted his face so their eyes met, and despite the desire he saw in the other man's eyes, Hadrian knew Lucius would not act on it before he heard his answers.

"You won't get out of this that easily," Lucius told him, the lines at the corners of his eyes deepening as he narrowed his eyes, his hold on Hadrian's jaw almost painful. "I want my answers."

Hadrian pulled his jaw from Lucius' hold and leaned back, forehead creased in irritation. "Then ask," he said, leaning back, hands sliding down from Lucius' shoulders to his arms, and around his wrists.

"You killed the inmates in Azkaban." It was more of a statement than a question, but Hadrian answered despite that.

"I did."

"Why?" Lucius asked.

"Because I didn't want to risk dangerous Death Eaters getting loose once Voldemort returns."

His answer, along with the Dark Lord's name caused Lucius to shudder and close his eyes. His voice, when he spoke again sounded as if he was being strangled. "Once he returns? You're certain of it?"

"Not anymore," Hadrian answered. "I've done much already to prevent it, but it's still a very real possibility."

"You want him dead." Again a statement, not a question.

"I can't accept any other possibility," Hadrian answered. "Voldemort is insane. Think what nearly nine years of existing without a body has done to his mind. He was unstable before, but now he's a raving lunatic, focusing on nothing but his obsession of immortality and erasing the taint of his own muggle heritage. If he's allowed to reign, the world will drown in blood, and the fact that some of that blood belongs to purebloods will not stop him." Hadrian leaned closer, so he could practically taste Lucius' breath on his tongue. "You think the fact that both your grandparents were wizards will stop him from cursing you, or make him spare your son? He'll take Draco if you step out of line, use your family to punish you once he tires of hearing your screams. He was not above killing an infant, what makes you think he wouldn't torture a ten year old?"

"That is unfair, using my son-"

"It's nothing but the truth," Hadrian interrupted him. "And you know it. Don't even pretend you don't."

Lucius stared at him with the desperation of a drowning man, but Hadrian refused to give him a way out. Lucius had wanted answers, so now he was going to get them.

"If I stood between you and the Dark Lord's destruction, would you kill me?" Lucius asked, and Hadrian was struck by the stupidity of that question. How could Lucius even ask? Because once it was voiced, it would always be there, lurking in the shadows, hanging like a blade over their heads. "No, don't answer," Lucius prevented him from speaking. "I don't want to hear you say it."

Lucius shook Hadrian's hands off so he could stand, and without looking at the other man, walked from the room. Yet he stopped at the doorway, when Hadrian called after him. "Will you come back?"

"I don't know," Lucius replied, his voice oddly blank.

When the front door closed with a bang that echoed through the house, Hadrian released a breath he had been holding ever since Lucius stood from his seat. All his previous gracefulness forgotten he climbed to his feet and collapsed on the chair Lucius had occupied only a few moments ago, and stared blankly up at the ceiling.

The clock ticked away, the old house groaned and the paintings whispered amongst themselves. The house of Black now held more secrets in its dark corners, and though every entity and old memory had its own opinion on the current lord, one thing remained a certainty – it would keep its secrets, as it always had.

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For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Lucius spent the evening with his son. He listened to his son whine about his studies and teachers, suffered through an enthusiastic recount of his victory over Crabbe and Goyle when playing cards and delighted both his wife and son by sitting in their company quietly reading as Draco solved calculation problems with his mother before the family's youngest retired to bed.

And then he spent an hour simply watching his son sleep.

Narcissa came from behind him to lay a hand on his arm, and joined him as they both gazed at their son. "I would do anything to keep him safe," Lucius told Narcissa who looked at him with an expression he quickly realised was pride. They had spent years together, and had come to respect each other, but this was the first time his wife was proud of him.

"I know," Narcissa replied, her smile radiant. "He's our dragon."

When Narcissa left him Lucius headed for his study and dug out an old battered diary with the initials TMR on the cover. He spent most of the night staring at it with a glass of whiskey in his hand.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **I love my beta. Any mistakes or oddness you find, completely my fault. Feel free to bitch about them in a review. I do so love them.

**Beta:** Crazylioness21

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Hadrian glanced up from the letter he was reading when Harry walked into the living room, threw his back-bag on the couch and himself next to it. "Who's that from?" the boy asked.

Hadrian glanced back at the letter, and then handed it over to the boy. He watched Harry's face as the boy read it, his excitement slowly building up before he was grinning wildly. He lifted his head, nearly bursting with enthusiasm. "Can I?" he asked. "Please, Ria?"

"Absolutely not, as long as you keep calling me that!" Hadrian yelled. "I have a proper name, and if you still can't pronounce it, Cousin will do."

"Ria!" Harry whined, all the while grinning. "We've talked about this! I can't call you anything else, it'd totally mess up my concept of our family structure."

"Bullocks!" Hadrian shouted. "You need to stop watching those talk shows." He reached over and held his hand for the letter, which Harry reluctantly handed over. "As for what Mr Lupin is suggesting," Hadrian continued. "I don't think it's such a good idea, but," the but prevented Harry from screaming bloody murder. "I don't see why he couldn't come here. I'll just pick him up from somewhere."

Harry worried his lip, casting an anxious look around their house. "You think…?" Harry started, but his voice seemed to lose its strength before he could finish the sentence. "I haven't seen the house yet," he finally finished and averted his eyes.

"You want to meet him there?" Hadrian asked, suddenly reluctant to let Harry and Lupin in the place he had met Lucius, especially since it had been only a few days after their last meeting, which Hadrian suspected would truly be their last. "Of course. It will be yours some day. Will next weekend be alright with you?"

"Really?" Harry asked, grinning.

"Sure. There's still a few things I need to check up on, but the house is mostly cleaned up and ready." Like making sure a few paintings kept their mouths shut about certain things.

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Saturday night Harry was in one of the upstairs bedrooms jumping on a bed, and Hadrian stood in front of the screaming banshee, Walburga Black, wand out, his mind filled with intricate and illegal spells that were clearly Dark in nature, contemplating on which to use for extracting the painting from the wall. He had finally managed to silence her temporarily with an obscure spell he had found at the Black library, and was using the silence to his advantage to study the various enchantments woven into the painting and wall.

Then the doorbell rang, Harry yelled, Kreacher popped in and the painting began screeching. "MUDBLOODS, BLOOD TRAITORS IN THE HOUSE OF-"

"_Reducto!_" Hadrian yelled, blasting a hole through the wall just as Lupin stepped inside.

"Master is destroying the house of Black, master is harming the mistress!" Kreacher moaned in distress, twisting his hands, already distressed about the removal of the elf heads.

"Did I come at a bad time?" Lupin asked, looking from Hadrian standing at the hallway wearing only a white t-shirt and jeans, to the gaping hole in the wall and then at Kreacher, twisting itself into almost impossible positions on the floor, trying to berate Hadrian and punish himself for insulting his master.

"Oh no, just adding some finishing touches," Hadrian answered. "I would introduce you to the lady of the house, but as you can see she's indisposed at the moment." Hadrian gestured towards the hole that showed a small storage closet filled with old furniture and pieces of wood and torn canvas.

"Hello," Harry shouted from top of the stairs. "You must be Mr Lupin," he said and ran down, two steps at a time. "I'm Harry," he said and held out his hand.

"Hello Harry," Lupin smiled and took the boy's hand. "It's nice to meet you."

"Why don't you and Kreacher go check up on dinner Harry, and I'll show Mr Lupin the house," Hadrian suggested, gesturing towards the still distressed elf moaning on the floor.

Harry looked at the elf, trying not to smile and nodded. "Come on Kreacher, we need to check on dinner."

In a second Kreacher was on his feet. "Young master must not touch the food, no, that is Kreacher's job, young master must not work!" The elf almost ran after Harry who was already hurrying towards the stairs leading down to the kitchen.

"Sorry to cut your introductions so short, but when Kreacher gets like that, Harry's the only one that can pull him out of it."

"I remember Sirius complaining about that elf. He didn't seem too fond of it."

"He just requires a certain kind of touch," Hadrian said, waving Lupin to walk before him. "And Harry has a way with people, and, well elves. Anything with a mind, really."

"That must be something he got from Lily," Lupin said with a fond smile. "I couldn't imagine James making friends with house elves, or any kind of magical creature. Some pureblood customs are harder to break than others."

"Ah, Hadrian," one of the paintings, a young witch with a flirty smile that Hadrian was quite fond of greeted them as they stepped into a parlour. "You have a new man. Wonderful, though he is different from the cold blond. I never would have thought brunettes were your type."

Apparently Sirius' wasn't the only painting he should have had a talk about fire and how vulnerable old paint and canvas were to it.

"A cold blond?" Lupin asked, smelling blood like the beast he was.

"Yes, a very elegant young man with long hair, so pale it was almost white," the witch kept digging Hadrian's grave for him, and any second now, "And such grace, a true pureblood gentleman." she'd hit him over the head with the shovel and push him in. "And he had such an interesting name, but I can't seem to remember. It was something that started with an L. Lucien, Lance…"

"Lucius?" Lupin suggested.

"That's it!" The witch smiled happily, then caught sight of Hadrian's face and paled. "I think I'll go visit my great uncle in the attic." She inched slowly out of the frame, with her robes hitched up.

"Malfoy? You've been involved with Malfoy?"

"I'd appreciate if you kept quiet about it," Hadrian said, keeping his voice calm. "He's married."

"Why?" Lupin asked, desperation sounding through in his voice.

Hadrian pressed his lips together and turned his back on Lupin. "Would you believe it was just one of those things that just… happen," he asked, and looked back at Lupin from over his shoulder. "Because that's the truth. And there's no point in talking about it anymore since it's over."

"What happened?" Remus asked, more confused than anything. He hardly knew Hadrian, but was already forced to deal with the man's love life.

"Reality," Hadrian answered simply. "I couldn't deal with what he was, and he wasn't prepared to change."

"And the fact that he has a wife and a son didn't even occur to you?" Remus asked, and was shocked when Hadrian simply shrugged indifferently. "You didn't even think about them, did you? What it would do to her?"

"We didn't think," Hadrian told him. "Not about his family, mine, or anything really. It wasn't something we planned, and had we been thinking clearly it never would have happened, but there were circumstances, things we had in common and certain events that made it so easy…"

"What could you possibly have in common with a Death Eater?" Remus almost yelled, and hardly believed his eyes when he saw the almost fond smile on Hadrian's face.

"You'd be surprised," Hadrian told him, his voice low, suggestive, and the edge of his smile held just enough darkness to make Remus realise he knew nothing of Hadrian Potter. He might have been James' cousin, but that did not automatically make him a good person.

But then Harry came in to the room and Hadrian's whole face transformed, and Remus realised that a certain amount of darkness did not make Hadrian a bad person.

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Hadrian stepped up to the teller and handed him a pile of Galleons that he needed exchanged for muggle money so he could pay the bills and buy groceries. Having your money in Gringotts while living in the Muggle World was far too complicated, and Hadrian was almost looking forward to the day when Harry would start at Hogwarts and they would spend most of their time in the Wizarding World. If nothing else it would at least mean lesser trips to Gringotts.

While he waited for the teller to finish, Hadrian took the opportunity to look around the bank. He spotted several familiar faces, along with parents with their children that were starting their school year at Hogwarts. Behind him the line was filled with muggleborns and their families, eyes filled with wonder of their first glimpse of the Magical World.

The goblin teller cleared its throat and Hadrian turned, took his money and thanked the creature only to receive a disgusted sneer and a wave of a gnarled hand for him to move on. Ducking his head to hide his smile from the goblin Hadrian stepped aside and headed towards the front doors, only to stop when he noticed a certain family of three.

The mother was holding a placating hand over her enthusiastic daughter's shoulder. The girl's head swivelled from side to side, her bushy hair framing her face like a veil, and her buck teeth giving her the appearance of a beaver.

Hadrian shook his head, not certain if he should be pleased or annoyed that Hermione Granger would be one year ahead of Harry. The likelihood of them becoming friends was now almost none existent. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what would happen to Ron without her influence. She'd had moments when she was overbearing and annoying, but mostly thanks to her Ron had turned out as the man he was.

No, had been. This Hermione and Ron weren't the same children he had known, and now because of this it was likely they never would become those people. He needed to stop comparing the people he met here to those he had known, and start judging them by their own merits and faults.

Hadrian started again towards the front doors, but was stopped by another familiar face in the crowd that had already lifted their arm to wave at him. He paused and waited for Lupin to reach him. "Wasn't sure you'd notice me," Lupin said once he was close enough that he didn't have to yell to be heard. "Good thing I caught you, I've been meaning to get in touch again."

"Oh really? What about?" Hadrian asked, hoping Lupin had gotten over the revelation of his relationship with Lucius. They hadn't discussed it any further, but that was mostly because for the rest of the evening Harry had been there, and neither man wanted to mention something like that in front of the boy.

"I found some pictures and letters in Sirius' cottage that I'm sure Harry would like to see. Mostly pictures of his parents, but there are some of their friends as well," Lupin told him, and then he looked uncomfortable, as if unwilling to say any more. "Some of the pictures and documents, they… well they might give him an idea what it was like during it."

What the 'it' was, was perfectly clear to both of them. Lupin meant the war, and that also meant that the 'friends' were members of the Order. Lupin's willingness to show them to him meant that at least he was certain of Hadrian's trustworthiness, which in a roundabout manner told Hadrian that he had been forgiven for his transgression concerning Lucius.

"I'm sure Harry would love to see them," Hadrian told him. "Just bring them with you to the house when you come over on Sunday."

"The house is starting to turn into a home for you," Lupin said. "Is there a reason you haven't moved in?"

Hadrian shrugged. "Harry's school and friends mostly. It's easier than living in London."

"But you aren't going to sell it?"

Hadrian laughed, thinking how Kreacher would react to the thought of selling Grimmauld. "No, at least I'll never sell it. It's up to Harry of course once he turns seventeen, but I doubt he will. He really likes the house. Then again, he didn't see it until after I'd cleaned it up."

"I'll see you Sunday then," Lupin answered as they stepped out of the bank, and Hadrian nodded goodbye and turned to head towards the Leaky Cauldron and the exit to Muggle London while Lupin continued towards a Potion store.

Hadrian reached the brick wall just as it unfolded to allow someone else to step through, and just as he was about to step aside and let them pass, he lifted his gaze and froze in place as he came face to face with Lucius and his family. He licked his lips, forced his eyes away from Lucius' and gave a small nod that Lucius returned.

"Can I have the new broom, Father?" Draco asked and Lucius turned away from Hadrian as if he was nothing more than an acquaintance.

"Not now, Draco, we'll see next year," Lucius told his son, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"You always say that, Father," Draco whined.

Hadrian followed them with his eyes a little longer then was appropriate, only turning away when Narcissa turned back and frowned at him.

Pulling back his shoulders Hadrian forced down the bitterness and stepped out of Diagon. Once the bricks closed behind him he released control of his face and let the scowl take over his face. The fact that this was the only thing that could have happened did not make him feel any better. He had known who and what Lucius was from the start, yet had still started this, knowing how it would end. No amount of talking would convince Lucius that supporting Voldemort was a bad idea. It would only happen when Voldemort had raided his Mansion, terrorized his family and humiliated Lucius. The man's belief in the supremacy of purebloods was too ingrained in him, and his pride would never let him admit he had made a mistake in joining the Death Eaters.

Hadrian entered the inn, and was faced with a sea of red heads, and he very nearly groaned out loud. The Weasley family was another reason he should have stayed far away from Lucius. They had been his family when he had no one, had freely given him their love and support. It felt like a betrayal now, to have lain in Lucius' arms after everything they had done to him. The only consolation he had was that these people were not the ones that had offered him so much. Yet he knew that even now they would have willingly accepted him and welcomed him to the family.

A small girl ran towards him and had Hadrian not stepped aside they would have collided. "Ginevra, be careful!" A woman, Molly Weasley yelled to her youngest and rushed after the child. "I'm terribly sorry," she said and smiled at him.

"No problem Madam," Hadrian smiled at her and bowed. "Hadrian Potter."

"Molly Weasley," she introduced herself and then shook the little girl until she curtsied. "And this is my daughter Ginevra." The rest of the family crowded around them, and Molly introduced them. "And this is Ron, the twins Fred and George who're just starting Hogwarts, Percy, and Charlie. Our oldest isn't here now. And my husband," she looked around for her errand husband who was deep in conversation with a muggleborn's father. "For Merlin's sake Arthur, leave the poor man alone and come meet Mr Potter!"

Arthur turned with a sheepish grin, and said goodbye to the man he had been speaking, who seemed rather relieved at being released, and joined his wife. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Potter," Arthur said when they shook hands. "A shame we don't have more time, but the children need their supplies for school."

"Will your Harry be going to Hogwarts?" Molly asked, but before Hadrian could answer the children voiced out their opinion.

"Harry Potter!" Fred and George yelled simultaneously. "Blimey! The-Boy-Who-Lived is coming to Hogwarts!"

"Is he really?" Ginny shouted, enthusiastic.

"He's not coming till next year, like me!" Ron yelled.

"Children, calm down!" Arthur admonished them. "Let Mr Potter answer."

As one the whole family turned their eyes on him, and Hadrian was starting to feel as harried as he had when he'd still been the celebrity, and not just his cousin. "Harry turns eleven only next year, I'm afraid," he said and smiled at the crushed look on the twins and Ginny, and the beaming smile on Ron.

"It would be nice to see little Harry," Molly said. "We knew his parents, you see. Such a nice young couple. But of course you probably knew them better."

Hadrian shook his head. "Never had the opportunity, I'm afraid."

"And yet you still took on little Harry," Molly sighed, and Hadrian grinned as he imagined Harry's reaction to being constantly referred to as little. The boy was just as sensitive about his height as Hadrian had been. "Why don't you both come to dinner?"

"Molly dear, I don't think-" Arthur tried to object only to be steamrolled by his wife.

"Nonsense! Harry needs to be around young people!" She exclaimed, not perhaps realising that she had just suggested that Harry was without friends. By the grimace on Arthur's and few of the elder children the unintended insult had not gone unnoticed by them, and Arthur turned a pleading look at Hadrian.

"Perhaps," Hadrian said, hoping Molly would be satisfied with that. Introducing Harry to the Weasleys this early would mean that they would both need to be careful of what they said and he wasn't sure if Harry would be comfortable lying to them, especially if he befriended any of them.

"Wonderful!" Molly declared and clapped her hands. "I'll write to you and we can settle on a date," she informed him, and then began herding her family from the inn.

Arthur waited till his wife and most of the family had passed and then turned to Hadrian with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry about my wife, but sometimes she just gets so terribly excited."

"It's no problem," Hadrian assured him and Arthur graced with a wide smile.

"It really would be nice if you and Harry could join us one day. I hope you'll consider it." Arthur followed his family, and Hadrian breathed freely for the first time since meeting the Weasley family. Years of living only with Harry had made him forget how overwhelming a large family of redheads could be.

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Hadrian was with Harry in the kitchen eating lunch when the doorbell rang. He looked at the time, and frowned. "It's probably Lupin, but he's a little early."

"Want me to go and let him in?" Harry asked, getting up.

Hadrian waved Harry down and stood from the table. "No, I'll go, you finish eating."

He climbed the stairs, smirking when he caught sight of the now bare wall that had once housed the painting of Walburga Black. His smirk faded when he opened the door and saw who was standing behind it.

Glancing behind him Hadrian stepped out, closing the door behind him. "What are you doing here?" he hissed at Lucius.

"I need to talk to you," Lucius said and tried to push past him and go inside, but Hadrian grasped hold of his arm.

"You can't be here," Hadrian said. "Harry's inside and Lupin's coming any minute."

"Lupin?" Lucius repeated, his distaste of the man clear on his face. "Well I should be grateful that at least it isn't the Weasleys."

Hadrian gritted his teeth and wondered how he could have ever thought this man charming. "What are you doing here, Lucius?" he repeated his question, gripping harder on Lucius' arm.

"I have to talk to you," Lucius said.

"Come back later, you can't be here now," Hadrian said. "Lupin could come at any moment, or if Harry sees you…" he released Lucius and ran a hand through his hair. "I can't let Harry see you," he stressed, and waited for Lucius to leave. Instead the man reached into his robe and pulled a thin black notebook, one that Hadrian still sometimes had nightmares about.

"You know what this is, don't you?" Lucius asked and Hadrian pulled his eyes from the notebook.

"Yes, I know what it is," Hadrian answered. "The question is, do you know what it is?"

"I have a few guesses," Lucius said, and Hadrian returned his eyes on the notebook.

"Why me?" Hadrian asked, keeping his eyes on the notebook, trying to squash down the feeling that he felt malice oozing from it. After all it was nothing but a blank notebook before you picked up a pen and wrote in it.

"There's no one else," Lucius replied, and Hadrian let out a hacking laugh. "You've made it clear what you want, and I can't trust someone like Dumbledore, I can't go to him, and," Lucius swallowed, and turned his face away from Hadrian. "I need someone who knows what they're doing. I need someone whom I can trust."

Hadrian felt like shaking, and throttling Lucius at the same time. He had never even imagined Lucius would come to him with the diary. He had thought he would have to steal it, or force Lucius to relinquish it in some other way.

Hadrian covered his mouth with the palm of his hand and tried to calm himself. When he finally felt calm, he pulled his hand from before his mouth and breathed deeply. "I can't let you leave with that now," he said, and opened the door. "Get in," he hissed, and prayed Harry had stayed in the kitchen.

He closed the front door, thankful for the absence of Walburga's painting, and led Lucius inside. They had just reached the bottom of the stairs, when Harry's footsteps ran up the stairs, and Hadrian opened the door leading to the sitting room, and hissed at Lucius, "The door at the right leads to the library. Go in there, hurry!"

Lucius' had just disappeared from view when Harry reached upstairs. "Where's Mr Lupin?" Harry asked, looking around him.

"It wasn't him," Hadrian answered with a smile that felt a little frayed. "A delivery for next door and they came here by mistake."

"I thought there are muggle repelling charms around the house," Harry said.

"There are," Hadrian answered, for the first time cursing Harry for his quick thinking. "He was probably a squib."

"Alright," Harry spoke slowly, frowning at Hadrian. "I'll go back to the kitchen, and you can hide whoever it is you don't want me seeing."

Hadrian choked and covered his mouth. Harry's grin, far too wide and innocent only grew larger. "I get to meet him some day though, right?"

Hadrian could only nod.

"Good then," Harry smiled and turned around, and Hadrian turned to the painting of the witch that had told Lupin of Lucius. She was grinning.

"Is it even possible to keep secrets in this house?" he asked from her and she shrugged. "Fine, but one more thing I don't want getting out, and I'm torching the paintings. All of them," he threatened, and was satisfied when the grin fled from her face and she gave a firm nod.

Grumbling Hadrian turned away and walked through the sitting room and to the library. Inside Lucius was sitting in chair with his arms crossed, glaring at Sirius' painting, the diary on the table before him.

Hadrian closed the door and waited for Lucius to look at him. But it seemed a staring contest with a painting was far more pressing for the other man.

Huffing Hadrian walked over and slammed his hand against the table next to the diary, causing both man and the painting to look at him. Lucius threw his head back and glared at him. "Your paintings are extraordinarily rude."

Hadrian hunched his shoulders, and grunted with his head hanging. "That's it?" he asked. "You bring a Horcrux into my house, and moan about the paintings? Do you have any idea how serious this is?"

Lucius leaned closer and snarled, "I know exactly how serious this is." He unfolded his arms and rested his palms against the table and stood. "You think it's likely that I've forgotten? I came to you, isn't that what you wanted?"

Hadrian closed his eyes and when he opened them he cupped his hand behind Lucius' head. He wanted to scream at Lucius, but in the end he only brought his other hand up as well and held Lucius' face between them.

"Hate to break up this tender moment," Sirius quipped from his painting. "But you might want to stash Blondie in a closet somewhere, because I think Remus is heading this way."

Hadrian let go and backed away from the table. He gestured to the diary, and told Lucius, "You shouldn't touch it. I'll try to come back as soon as I can. Just don't make any more noise than you have to. I don't feel like explaining to Lupin why you're here."

"Don't worry, I have no desire to meet him," Lucius answered, sneering, and pulled his cloak from his shoulders and laid it over the arm of his chair. He ran a long fingered hand over it before turning his back on Hadrian and heading to one of the bookshelves.

Hadrian threw one last look at Sirius before leaving Lucius alone in a library filled with various invaluable books and a Dark artefact that could bring back the most dangerous and feared Dark Lord in recorded history.

"Hadrian, I wondered where you'd disappeared of to," Lupin spoke from the sitting room's doorway, and Hadrian turned and behind his back twisted the key in the lock.

"Just some unfinished paperwork I hadn't gotten the chance to finish," he answered, smiling at the other man, sliding the key to the pocket of his trousers. "Did Harry let you in?"

"Yes, I left the pictures and rest of the stuff in the dining room," Lupin told him, frowning at the closed library door.

"Would you mind looking after him for a sec, I need to talk to Kreacher about a few things," Hadrian asked while guiding Lupin from the room.

"I don't mind," Lupin answered with a small frown. "But there are a few things there that I think might interest you as well."

"I won't be long," Hadrian said, closed the sitting room door and then heading down to the kitchen. Once downstairs he waited long enough until he was sure Lupin wasn't intending to follow him before calling for Kreacher. He had to make sure the elf wouldn't mention Lucius' presence in the house to anyone.

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"And this," Lupin said as he showed them another photograph, "is a picture of the Order your parents and I were members of."

"You've mentioned it a few times already," Hadrian said. "What is it, this Order?"

Harry took the picture from Lupin and sat down on a chair to look at it closer, and beamed down at the picture of his parents with a small, fond smile on his face.

"The Order of the Phoenix," Lupin told him. "Dumbledore founded it during the war, to fight against You-Know-Who."

"You mean Voldemort?" Harry asked, setting the picture down.

"Yes," Lupin answered, and then asked Hadrian, "How much have you told him?"

Hadrian shrugged. "Not much. Everything I know." He picked up another photograph, this one a group photo of the Marauders, taken in Hogwarts. "And most of what I know is from books and old issues of The Daily Prophet."

Remus smiled sadly and gathered up some of the letters that had spread all over the table. "There really isn't much more I can tell you, I'm afraid. If anyone would know more it would be Dumbledore, but I know how you feel about him, so…"

Hadrian offered a wry grin and then looked at the clock. "I didn't realise it was that late. I still have some paperwork to finish before tomorrow."

"And I haven't done my homework," Harry announced proudly.

"What do you mean you haven't done your homework? You've had the whole weekend!"

"It's alright, I still have time," Harry answered, grinning. "And Mr Lupin can help me."

Hadrian turned to Lupin, who shrugged and offered a smile. "I wouldn't mind."

"If you're sure," Hadrian said, and Lupin nodded. "I appreciate it. I'll be in the library if you have any problems, and Harry can call Kreacher if you get hungry."

"We'll be fine, Ria, don't worry."

Hadrian grimaced at the name, but let it go, left Harry and Lupin in the dining room and walked through the house to the library where he'd left Lucius.

Before turning the key in the lock Hadrian took in a deep breath and pushed back all his convoluted thoughts and feelings concerning the man on the other side of the door. He couldn't let their past affect on what he said or how he acted. He needed Lucius to commit himself to the destruction of Voldemort, especially now. He couldn't afford Lucius going to Voldemort with what he knew.

Hadrian turned the key, pushed the door open and stepped inside. Lucius was sitting beside a table, a number of books open around him, and a cup of tea by his elbow. When Hadrian closed the door he looked up and stood, placing a marker on the page.

"Are you going to kill me?" Lucius asked, and Hadrian lowered his head and looked at Sirius' painting from the corner of his eye. The man was grinning darkly, and Hadrian had no difficulties in guessing who'd put the thought in Lucius' head. "Well, are you?"

Hadrian lifted his head and folded his arms. "What makes you think I want to kill you?"

"You obviously don't have any problems with killing people. Example one," Lucius gestured furiously to the painting, never looking away from Hadrian. "So? Are you?"

Hadrian unfolded his arms and stepped away from the door. "I don't think I could," he finally said. "Before, you asked me if I would kill you if you stood between Voldemort and his death, and I don't think I could."

"Is it because we slept together?" Lucius asked, walking around the table, and Hadrian walked to the other side of the room, keeping the furniture between them.

"Most likely," Hadrian answered, fingering one of the more ancient texts Lucius had been reading. "You don't fuck a person and not feel something for them."

Lucius grimaced and rested his hands against the table, his hair falling down on both sides of his head, obscuring his face from view, and yet Hadrian thought he felt Lucius' heavy gaze on his face.

"The book," Lucius said, shattering the silence and changing the subject. "What are we going to do about it?" He lifted his head and though nothing appeared to have changed in his expression, Hadrian noticed a certain softening in the edges and lines on his face.

"Do you know what a Horcrux is?" Hadrian asked and straightened, pushing back from the table.

"You mentioned it before, and I tried to look it up on these books, but there wasn't even a mention of it."

"And you won't find one," Hadrian answered. "I doubt there's a book left that speaks of them. If no one else, then Voldemort has destroyed them."

Lucius looked at the small black diary lying innocently on the table. "You told me not to touch it." He lifted his gaze and locked it onto Hadrian's. "There's another reason besides that you don't want me running off with it."

"Murder creates a tear in the soul," Hadrian said, and saw the moment Lucius made the connection. His eyes widened, he paled and looked like he had eaten something foul. "Voldemort found a way to rip his soul apart, and to place the discarded part of his soul inside an object. As long as he has a Horcrux, he can't be killed."

"And that," Lucius pointed a shaking finger at the diary. "That is a Horcrux?"

"If you write in it, a seventeen year old Tom Riddle will answer," Hadrian told him. "And he will charm you, like only he can, and steal your soul. It sucks away your life force to construct a body of its own. It's like a parasite that once done with the host will kill it."

Lucius was still staring at the diary, but when he spoke it was clear he was no longer thinking of it. "The way you speak of it, you sound like you know." Lucius lifted his chin so he could stare down at Hadrian. "And not only about this. You speak and act like you know what is going to happen."

Hadrian glared at the painting that shrugged at him.

"The painting didn't tell me anything, but that look makes it clear there's something to tell. And you've trusted it with a painting?" Lucius looked furious, and he pulled at the collar of his robe and tore the top buttons free.

"I may not want to kill you, but that doesn't mean I trust you," Hadrian hissed. "You've hardly given me a reason."

"I brought you this!" Lucius snarled and slammed his fist against the table, making the diary and books jump. "If the Dark Lord finds out, it's my life, and my family's that's in danger and you tell me I haven't given you a reason to trust me!" Lucius yelled, but quickly calmed himself and smiled, taking in deep breaths that soon turned to laughter.

"Somehow you always manage to find a way to keep from answering the difficult questions, by bringing up something else and making me either furious or despaired, but not this time." He shook his head and walked around the table to where Hadrian was standing. "This time, you're going to tell me. How do you always know?"

Hadrian looked away, avoiding both Lucius' and the paintings eyes on him, and focussed on the diary. "That's something I'm not prepared to tell you, or anyone else." He walked around Lucius to get some distance between them. "If I ever decide to tell anyone, it will most likely be you." When the painting cleared its throat, Hadrian rolled his eyes and turned so he was facing both. "An actual person, not an animated picture."

The affronted look on Sirius' face and the small smile curving Lucius' lips was enough to lift Hadrian's mood and he turned back to the diary. "The problem now is that I can't afford to just ignore that," he gestured at the diary. "I have to destroy it, but if I do that, and Voldemort comes looking for it he'll kill you if he doesn't find it."

"So what do we do?" Lucius asked.

"Replace it," Hadrian said. "I'll give you a duplicate, and you can hide it where you kept the original."

"And it'll be good enough to fool him?"

"No one can tell the difference," Hadrian replied and walked to a bookshelf, pulled out a book, opened it, and from inside it took out a replica of the diary Lucius had brought. He handed it to Lucius, who took it and inspected it carefully.

"It's perfect," he said, placing the diary in his robe pocket. "And that? How do you destroy a Horcrux?"

"Fiendfyre and Basilisk venom work. I'm not sure about the killing curse. There are a few obscure rituals, but the price for those is too high." Hadrian lifted a hand to his forehead and made a strange gesture over it, before lowering his hand to his side. "Kreacher!" he called and the elf popped in. "Bring me the black case from the hall closet."

The elf nodded and popped away, and returned a few seconds later with a black box that had been decorated with silver etchings. Hadrian took the box from the elf and placed it on the table. After glancing briefly at Lucius he opened the case, revealing its contents. It was filled to the brim with different bottles and glass boxes filled with herbs, rocks and other things Lucius was certain only a Potions Master would have recognized.

Hadrian picked up one bottle, filled with dark green liquid and handed it to Lucius who took it gingerly, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. "Careful with that," Hadrian warned him and closed the case. "It's all the Basilisk venom I have."

Lucius quirked an eyebrow and brought the bottle to his eye. "Impressive. Not many people have access to this."

Hadrian pushed the case aside and pushed the diary across the table and to Lucius. "A drop should do it," he said.

Lucius looked up from the bottle. "You want me to do it?" he asked, dragging his words and splayed the fingers of his free hand on the table. "Still don't trust me?"

Hadrian let the silence and his solemn face speak for itself.

"Fine," Lucius muttered and pulled the stopper from the glass bottle, brought it over the diary, but before tilting it, he stilled. His hand still hovering over the diary Lucius swallowed and asked, "That's it? There's nothing more I need to do, no price? Just a few drops of venom and it's gone? It can't be that simple." Lucius looked at him, and for the first time Hadrian saw fear in the man's face.

"Basilisk venom is one of the most corrosive substances in the world. It's anything but simple," Hadrian replied, keeping to the facts, hoping they would be enough to calm Lucius.

Lucius gave a stiff nod, lifted the bottle again and tilted the bottle, letting a drop fall. The moment it touched the surface of the leather Hadrian hurried to Lucius side, took the bottle from his hand, placed the stopper back on it and pushed the man behind him and backed away from the table.

Hadrian slid the hand that was not holding the bottle down Lucius' side and rested it against his hip. He felt Lucius' arms go around him and together they watched as the burning hole in the diary grew larger and devoured and burned through the book.

Black smoke circled above of the book and twisted in the air like a living thing, coiled and pulled to all sides as if it were burning, boiling from the inside and trying to escape. Then with a loud shriek of rage the smoke disappeared and nothing was left of the Horcrux but a mangled and burnt old notebook.

"At least he's mortal now," Lucius said, pulling Hadrian back against his chest.

Hadrian rested his head under Lucius' chin and allowed them both to enjoy it for a while. Finally when Lucius' hands began to wander, he said. "That wasn't his only Horcrux. I need you to get me the second one."

Hadrian was sure Lucius would have started screaming if someone hadn't knocked on the door just then.

Quickly Hadrian pulled out of Lucius' arms, placed the glass bottle back on the case, closed it and placed it over the burnt diary, not wanting to touch it in case it still held some remnants of the venom and then turned to one of the bookcases and pressed at a carving of a leaf. The bookcase flung back revealing an empty space not much larger then a broom closet.

"Get in there," Hadrian hissed at Lucius, pulling at his sleeve.

"You're hiding me in a dusty cupboard?" Lucius hissed back, furious.

"Just get in!" Hadrian glared, pushed Lucius in the closet, and before the man could speak another word, pressed another carving, closing the hidden doorway.

Standing in the now empty room Hadrian felt like giggling. He glanced at the painting and grinned, pleased to notice a matching expression on its face. "That's one way to deal with Malfoy, I suppose. Stuff him in a closet."

Hadrian was still laughing at Sirius' comment when he opened the door and found Lupin standing there. "Anything the matter?" he asked.

"No, we finished with Harry's homework and I thought I'd come say goodbye before leaving. I gave some pictures and letters to Harry, mostly of his parents and Sirius." Lupin gazed at the bookshelves like a starved man that had just come across a five course meal, and Hadrian stepped aside and let him come in. "Such a large collection. Have you made an inventory of it?"

"Haven't had the time, or the interest," Hadrian confessed.

"Hoi Moony!" Sirius yelled from his frame, grinning and waving wildly, and Lupin almost jumped out of his skin at the voice.

"Padfoot?" Lupin whispered, wide eyed and etched towards the painting. "Is it… really you?"

"Well it ain't my brother. They still got him stashed in a box somewhere."

"Really?" Hadrian asked. "I'll have to tell Kreacher to bring him out."

"I can't tell you how good it feels to talk to you," Lupin told Sirius, smiling fondly. He braced himself against a chair, but then frowned down at it, and Hadrian felt like smacking himself over the head,when he noticed Lupin was touching Lucius' cloak. "Hadrian?"

"Yes?" he asked, forcing his smile to remain where it was, and not slip.

"There is probably a perfectly good explanation why I'm holding Lucius Malfoy's cloak, and I'd like to hear it."

"What makes you think it's his?" Hadrian asked, and knew from Sirius' grimace it was a pointless question.

"Could be the family crest embroidered on it," Lupin said, and then his attention was caught by the chest and the remains of the diary under it. He gently picked moved the chest and poked at the burned leather and paper. The cloak still in hand he turned to Hadrian.

"Alright, you caught me," Hadrian said, collapsing into a nearby chair and hiding his face behind his hands. He knew he could never fake distressed, so keeping Lupin from seeing his face was the next best thing.

"Hadrian?" Lupin asked, all the fury gone from his voice.

"It just gets too much sometimes, and then I," Hadrian paused, scrambling for words. "The cloak's the only thing I have left of him, and when I hold it, sometimes it's enough." He heard a strangled sound from the painting, and swore if Sirius started laughing now, he'd throw him in the fireplace.

"Oh Hadrian," Lupin breathed. "That's very touching, and if I hadn't spent my school years with James and Sirius, 'no I really am serious' over there, I might have bought it. What's really going on here?"

Hadrian pulled his hands from his face and looked at Lupin, who no longer showed signs of blowing up, but neither did he look prepared to take just any bullshit story Hadrian fed him.

"I'm usually much better at lying," Hadrian said, startling a booming laugh from the painting and making even Lupin's lips twitch.

"I don't doubt it," Lupin replied dryly and threw the cloak at Hadrian who caught it and gently folded it on the arm of his seat. "I thought you were through with him."

"I was, I am," Hadrian shrugged, frowning. "It's not an easy situation, or as simple as you might think. The fact is that we have certain," Hadrian paused, trying to think of a word that would not reveal too much, and yet make Lupin understand how impossible it was for him to stop meeting Lucius.

"For Merlin's sake just tell the man! I doubt he'd be opposed to the idea," Lucius informed him from where he was standing by the open bookcase.

"What the hell are you doing Lucius? I told you to stay in there!" Hadrian shouted, springing up from his chair.

"I'm not spending another moment inside that, that," he gestured behind him and shuddered. "There are spiders in there. Does your elf ever clean this place?"

"This is so much better than any of those muggle shows I used to watch." Sirius took his chance to throw in some commentary. "I wish they'd painted some chips in here."

"You stashed Lucius Malfoy in a closet?" Lupin asked, and then pressed his hand on his mouth, but it did nothing to hide his amused smile. When he couldn't contain it, he cracked and started laughing. "It actually isn't funny at all!" Lupin managed to get out between bouts of laughter, practically screaming. "But Malfoy just came out of the closet!"

Hadrian tried, he really did, but with Lupin nearly rolling on the ground, and Lucius staring at both of them like they'd lost their minds, he couldn't help the smile that was trying to surface on his face, and eventually he joined Lupin in his laughter.

"I don't even want to hear it," Lucius declared and reached past Hadrian to get his cloak. Hadrian, still chuckling placed a hand on his arm stopped him from leaving.

"You're not going anywhere. You're the one that refused to stay hidden, so we're dealing with this together."

Lucius growled, but nodded and let go of his cloak so it fell back on the chair, and together they waited for Lupin to get his composure back.

"So I'm guessing this isn't as simple as an affair?" Lupin eventually asked, once he'd calmed down. "And that book has something to do with it."

"That book, just a few moments ago, was a vessel housing a piece of Voldemort's soul," Hadrian said, wanting to get it over with as soon as possible. "Lucius brought it to me."

"His soul, but that's…" Lupin shuddered and wiped his hand, the one he'd used to prod the diary, on his robes. "How is that even possible?"

"Anything is possible with the Dark Arts," Lucius said, as if he hadn't just heard of Horcruxes for the first time, and Hadrian squashed the urge to slap him over the head. Instead he settled on staring at the man with a raised eyebrow. Lucius, used to bullshitting his way through much more stressful situations like Death Eater meetings and a Wizengamot hearings kept his composure and replied with a cool smile.

"And this is why you've been meeting?" Lupin asked, and Hadrian tilted his head, not answering, but letting Lupin make his own conclusions. "I can understand that, but how? I mean, Malfoy's a Death Eater, why would he want to destroy them, and how would he even know to come to you?"

"The Dark Lord is insane," Lucius declared haughtily, as if that had always been his opinion. "And I was under the _Imperius_," he added as an after thought.

"Don't bother Blondie, no one here believes you," Sirius yelled, probably feeling neglected.

"And as for how I knew to come to Potter," Lucius shrugged. "We did talk. Really, Lupin, you think either of us would just jump into bed with some stranger?"

Hadrian glanced at Lucius as if he wanted to contradict that statement, but eventually decided to let Lucius keep his fun, and pretend their relationship had been something more than just sex. He guessed it would have been demeaning for someone like Lucius to admit he'd betrayed his marriage vows for something as crass as physical pleasure. Hadrian didn't really care either way.

"Remus," Hadrian said, startling the man from his blatant staring at Malfoy. "Would you mind checking up on Harry, making sure he gets something to eat? I still need to talk about something with Lucius."

"Alright," Remus agreed easily, and even closed the door behind him.

"So it's Remus now?" Lucius sneered, stepping back and glaring at him. "It was still Lupin a few hours ago."

"What are you talking about now?" Hadrian asked tiredly. "What does it matter if I call him by his first or last name?"

"You certainly didn't waste time in finding someone else to keep you company."

"I think he's jealous," Sirius commented, and Hadrian's head snapped to the painting.

"Don't be ridiculous," Lucius denied it, but not with much conviction.

"I think you are," Hadrian said. "But you really shouldn't be," he smiled widely at the sudden interest that was apparent in Lucius' face. "Remus doesn't go for men, you see."

Lucius growled and took another grab at his cloak, but again Hadrian placed his hand on his arm, but this time instead of keeping it there he let his hand wander up to Lucius shoulder, neck, and let his fingers play with the few buttons at the top Lucius had pulled free.

"This doesn't need to be so difficult," Hadrian said, trying to make himself believe it.

Lucius took his hand and pulled it away from his neck. "This couldn't be anything else but difficult." The certainty, the truth of it made Hadrian want to dispute it even more. But he let Lucius release his hand and step back, and forced himself to focus on the Horcrux he would need Lucius to get him from the Lestrange vault.

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Hadrian was sitting in the Library at the Black house, doing what Remus had suggested a few days ago, and making an inventory of all the books and getting side tracked more frequently than was practical.

"The Black's always wanted a Dark Lord in the family," Sirius commented from his frame and Hadrian lifted his eyes from the book that was admittedly Dark, but nothing that would merit such a comment.

"Are you hinting at something?" Hadrian asked, placing aside the book in favour of yet another entertaining conversation with Sirius' painted imprint.

Sirius shrugged and picked at the sleeve of his black and blue robes. "Just stating a known fact about the family. Nothing would make the family ghosts happier, you know, than to have a Black Dark Lord."

"The Blacks have no family ghosts," Hadrian replied dryly, returning to his book.

"I just worry about you sometimes," Sirius said, and Hadrian sighed. "You throw around Unforgivables like they're Cheering Charms and the way you act around Malfoy…" Sirius pursed his lips and scrunched up his nose. "Your interests clearly reside along certain lines, you have no problem with killing people or manipulating them."

"I don't want to rule the world," Hadrian said. "I don't want to be immortal, do things for the Greater Good or have a desire to purge the Wizarding World."

"You'd make one hell of a Dark Lord, though," Sirius continued as if he hadn't heard a thing. "Could even do some good. Be a Dark Lord for the good cause. I could be proud of a Dark Lord like that."

Hadrian slammed the book down and fled from the library, deciding it had to be something in the walls that turned all the paintings in the house insane.


	7. Chapter 7

**Beta: **Crazylioness21

**A/N:** I hope you like this chapter. No idea how long it might take me to cough up another one for this. Comments, critique, opinions, hate-mail, etc. all welcomed and loved.

* * *

Hadrian opened his hand so he could look at the ring, and the stone on it. He'd held it for over an hour already, not daring to use it, but not willing to part from it either.

It was temptation like no other. He had been wise before, letting it fall from his grasp, to be lost amongst roots and weeds, hidden by the ever changing ground of the Forbidden Forest.

The Deathly Hallows were a thing that should have been lost to humanity before it was even created. And if they truly were things of Death, then with Death they should be. For man to hold them was wrong. No one was strong enough to face the temptation of their power. To be invisible, to hold power greater than no other, to speak to those in the land of the dead.

He wondered if they would come if he turned the stone, his dead. Or would they be the dead of this world that did not know him, would not love him, and would only hear the voice of a stranger whose call they refused to answer. And if it was his dead that answered, would they judge him, condemn him for his choices and actions?

He wanted to believe they wouldn't, but what did he know anymore, with only half his soul intact? He had lost so much on that day when the magical storm had picked him up and thrown him across time and reality and brought him here where he had found a little boy so like him in many ways, but held the potential to become something else, something so much more.

With a shaky breath he let the ring fall to the small hole he had dug under the floorboard of the Shrieking Shack. Unlike Voldemort, he wove no spells, curses or enchantments to protect it, trusting the Shack's reputation and the similarity of the hiding place to keep the Stone, now free from the Horcrux, safe.

He kneeled, covered the stone with the loose soil, replaced the board, and it was again as if nothing had disturbed the ghosts that lived in the rundown cabin, where once a werewolf had howled at the moon with three other animals as his company.

Hadrian stood, turned his back on the stone, and moved to the window from where he could see Hogwarts.

He could slip in through the secret passageway that led to the Weeping Willow, but not undetected during the day, and even with the cover of nightfall he doubted he would succeed. Dumbledore might have looked the other way when he attended the school, but he'd had his reasons then, and none of them were present here and now.

Hogwarts and the Horcrux presiding within its walls would simply have to wait. But he would take it before Harry entered the school, that he swore, even if it was only to himself.

Hadrian walked out of the shack and down the road that led to Hogsmeade. Once in the town he stared in shock at the rushing children filling every street and shop. It was a Hogsmeade weekend.

A boy, a third year Slytherin by the looks of him, rushed past, almost knocking him over and Hadrian was sorely tempted to pull him back by his collar, and shake him until he heard an apology. Was there no one here supervising these brats?

"Mr Emer!" A booming voice yelled, and the rushing third year froze in the midst of his run. It was almost comical how the boy stopped with one foot still on the air, arms folded to the side, and a look of absolute horror on his face.

Hadrian turned to the voice, already knowing what he would see, yet it was still a shock to see Snape standing there with his dark robes, alive, with the full force of his scowl focusing on the boy.

"I expect better behaviour from my Slytherins," Snape said, his eyes still glued on the petrified boy. "Apologise."

The boy gulped and lowered his eyes, then turned back to Hadrian, dragging his feet with every step. When the boy reached him, he still kept his head down and muttered something Hadrian didn't hear, so he simply raised on eyebrow and waited for the boy to look up and see the expecting look on his face.

The boy glanced at his head of house, only to see the same expecting look there, and an even fiercer scowl than before. Finally the boy gathered up his courage, straightened his back and looked Hadrian straight in the eye. It seemed that along with the use of his spine, the boy's pride had returned.

"I apologise for bumping in to you, sir. I should have looked where I was going."

"It's no trouble," Hadrian waved the boy off, and smiled, knowing it didn't reach his eyes, and the combination of the warm smile and the ice cold eyes would be enough to scare the boy, and if he were wise, to remember and be wary of him in the future.

"Thank you sir," the boy replied, a little of that wariness Hadrian had wanted to inspire in the boy already showing.

But it was not all for the boy's benefit, and when he left Hadrian glanced at Snape and was glad to see caution and interest in the dark eyes.

Snape by himself didn't matter, but he was Dumbledore's man. And since Hadrian deemed Dumbledore too dangerous for him to speak with personally, his closest confidant, or at least the closest thing Dumbledore had to one, would have to suffice.

Hadrian could not allow Dumbledore anywhere near him. He was too powerful and clever to risk it. Dumbledore might be the one capable of unravelling all his secrets, and Hadrian was not willing to let them go.

Not only that, it was dangerous. Hadrian had committed sins darker than any Dumbledore would forgive, and worse yet, he would not take any of them back if he were given the choice. Every death, each pain he had caused, he would do again. Not simply because it had brought him here, to this moment and position, but because not all deaths and all the pain were caused by necessity, some he had enjoyed.

"I apologise for my student," Snape said, his dark scowl easing slightly now that there was no student present to be reprimanded.

"No need," Hadrian replied. "The boy apologised."

"Only after prompted," Snape said. "I expect better from my Slytherins."

"You seem very possessive of them," Hadrian commented, stepping a bit closer so they could talk easier amongst the buzz of chatter around them.

"I am their head of house," Snape said and offered his hand. "Severus Snape."

Hadrian waited until he had hold of the hand before giving his name. "Hadrian Potter."

He waited for the disdain and loathing to seep into that face, and almost smiled at the expected scowl that formed on Snape's face. It was familiar in ways nothing else had been. There was still one thing he could count on to stay the same no matter what else changed. He doubted even the strongest of magics could erase Snape's hatred for the name Potter.

"The mysterious guardian of our vaulted Boy-Who-Lived," Snape said, the venom in the title very real and biting.

"And your student by next year," Hadrian answered, smiling. "Perhaps even one of your Slytherins."

"I doubt it," Snape bit out, his lips curling back as if the simple thought of it tasted foul in his mouth.

"True, he might end up in Hufflepuff. Harry greatly values loyalty."

"Not Gryffindor?" Snape asked drawled, the disdain he felt for the gold and red house clear in his voice.

"I like to think I've taught him better than that," Hadrian answered with a wide smile, this one reaching his eyes, but it did nothing to soften its sharp edge. "But I really must be on my way. It was a pleasure to meet you, Professor Snape. Perhaps we will meet again in the future."

Snape sneered at him, but he looked more thoughtful now, as if what Hadrian had said, or something else in their encounter had caused Snape to rethink either his actions, or motivations.

Hadrian walked away with the knowledge that nothing would truly change in the way Snape saw Harry and that there was nothing he could do about it, short of killing the man. But unless Snape endangered Harry in some way he would not harm him, and he knew Snape would never endanger Lily's child, no matter how much of James Potter he saw in him.

Hadrian made his way to the Three Broomsticks with the intention of using the floo there, but was thwarted by that course of action when he saw that Dumbledore had ventured out of the school, and in his company was what looked like the majority of the Hogwarts board of governors.

He grimaced, wishing he would have had the foresight to ask what Lucius' plans for the weekend were, because then he would have at least avoided this unfortunate encounter. He chanced a look behind him and was planning on leaving, when something in his direction caught Dumbledore's attention and the old man shouted, "Mr Potter, what a delightful coincidence!"

Hadrian gritted his teeth and plastered a pleasant smile on his face in favour of the governors. He fought to keep his arms relaxed by his sides and to stifle the enraged shriek building in his throat. With steps that spoke of confidence he did not feel, Hadrian walked over to the group and inclined his head slightly.

"What brings you to Hogsmeade on such a lovely Saturday afternoon?" Dumbledore asked, the men and women around him standing quietly, following their interactions silently and without any obvious interest. Lucius seemed agitated, but Hadrian was certain it had nothing to do with the interruption of Hogwarts business.

"Just out on a stroll," Hadrian answered, casting a longing glance at the pub's doorway barred by the governors, and the biggest hurdle of them all, Dumbledore. "It's a lovely day, after all and we might not have many before the winter comes upon us."

"I did not know you had a habit of taking strolls in Hogsmeade," Dumbledore said, smiling jovially, and Hadrian felt his own smile turn a touch bitter. The look he gave the man would have been obvious to anyone, and it declared Dumbledore had no business in where or what was in Hadrian's habit, and he intended to keep it that way.

Dumbledore's smile waned a bit and he stepped slightly further from the governors. "Might we have a word in private, Mr Potter?"

"I do not really have the time, Mr Dumbledore," Hadrian answered.

"Surely you can spare a few minutes," Dumbledore said, still confident that he would eventually win Hadrian over.

"I could," Hadrian conceded. "I just don't wish to."

Dumbledore sighed with that sad look that oozed of disappointment that was designed to make you feel guilty for refusing a request by the old man. But Hadrian held inside him years of resentment and old anger directed towards Dumbledore that helped him refuse anything the man requested. The fact that it was not even directed to this Dumbledore made no difference, because in his mind not much was different between the two men. Given the chance this man would no doubt gleefully take over the role of their benevolent grandfather dictating their fate from his high tower, confident in his right to decide for them as if they were handicapped children.

Without giving Dumbledore a chance to say more Hadrian turned on his heels and stormed off, passing Snape on his way. The man's eyebrows were raised questioningly, having apparently witnessed the entire encounter, but he did not comment on it.

When Hadrian turned a corner he chanced a glance back and saw Snape give Lucius a look, one that was replied to with a small nod.

That single nod could mean trouble, depending on where Lucius thought Snape's loyalties rested. He was almost certain Lucius would not betray him, not after what they had done together to ensure Voldemort's downfall, yet there was still a small nagging doubt in the back of his mind, making him question the man.

Despite everything, Lucius had given him no assurances, and Hadrian had not asked any. It was doubtful he would have believed any, either. Lucius Malfoy was not a man whose word could be trusted, and Hadrian would have trouble believing any vows from him that were not enforced by magic.

Frustrated at how things seemed to pile on top of each other Hadrian hurried to the edge of town and apparated home.

000

His encounter with Dumbledore made Hadrian realise he needed to speak with Remus, and if he wanted to avoid killing him, he had to convince the man to keep their secrets.

Considering what Dumbledore had done for Remus, it would not be easy to convince him to lie, or even to withhold information from the old man. Remus was used to taking orders from Dumbledore, and it would be difficult to convince him to trust an almost complete stranger and a known Death Eater instead of a man that had led him through an age of terror.

That Sunday, like any other Sunday, Hadrian told Kreacher what to prepare for dinner, and for the elf's peace of mind kept away from the kitchen, making sure that Harry kept his distance as well. It had become almost like a rule for them now, to let Kreacher prepare their meals every Sunday, and not just the dinner they shared with Remus, but lunch as well.

Kreacher seemed more than pleased to be able to take care of a family again, even if it was only for one day a week. The fact that they had yet to move in was a constant cause for bemoaning for Kreacher, and he was not shy in expressing his opinion like most elves would have been.

Then again Kreacher had never been shy in expressing his opinions to his masters, but they used to involve much more swearing. The change in behaviour was startling, and Hadrian credited it all to Harry. Hadrian knew that if it had been only him, Kreacher might have been loyal, but would have retained his gloomy view of life, and would have fought him on every single change done to the house. But with Harry there, Kreacher seemed to agree that a cleaner, brighter house would make Harry wish to spend more time there and perhaps eventually even live in the house.

Remus arrived just in time to have afternoon tea, which they had in one of the brighter sitting rooms that was lighted by the afternoon sun, and decorated with new, pale wallpaper and fresh flowers on every single surface.

"He really wants you to move in here," Remus commented amusedly, picking up one of the sandwiches Kreacher had provided with the tea.

"And we might," Hadrian answered. "But not before Harry starts at Hogwarts, and perhaps not even then. It all depends how things go."

Harry, who'd heard the arguments before focused on the more sugary treats on the tray and left them to their conversation.

"Are you worried?" Remus asked.

Hadrian shrugged and placed his cup on the small table by his elbow. "Harry's situation isn't exactly usual," Hadrian said, entwining his fingers and settling them on his lap. "It all depends on how well he adjusts to the school and his position amongst the Wizarding World. It can be stressful for a child to have that much attention on them, to have your every word and gesture weighed and speculated. Thankfully he's been spared so far, but that won't continue once his name is called in the Great Hall and he places the sorting Hat on his head."

"You told Harry about the sorting!" Remus shouted, appearing horrified, but grinning. "No one's ever told the sorting, it's a tradition!"

"A stupid tradition, especially in Harry's case," Hadrian said. "He needs to know what will happen, and he needs to understand the consequences of what will happen based on the House the Hat will place him. Each house comes with its own stigmas and prejudices."

Remus glanced at Harry, who to him was taking this surprisingly calmly. "You've talked about this before, Harry?" he asked the boy, who nodded.

"The best House by my reckoning is Hufflepuff," the boy replied. "Less expectations, I'll be underestimated if I'm a badger, and most people will leave me alone just because I'm a puff. Not to mention there's strength in numbers."

"Slytherin," Remus announced without missing a beat. "A Hufflepuff wouldn't even consider the merits, a Gryffindor wouldn't care and a Ravenclaw… well a Ravenclaw might, but I don't see you in a blue tie."

"I figured," Harry answered, looking disappointed. "But it would be cool if I could convince the Hat to place me in Hufflepuff," he added, a sly smile on his lips.

"Why not try?" Hadrian offered.

"You think?"

"Couldn't hurt," Hadrian smiled. "I doubt you'll succeed, though, so I suggest you start focusing on how you'll going to win over the other Slytherins, and prepare yourself for the backlash, because there will be one."

"Like bullies?"

"Bullies that can publish their opinions in the paper and declare it news," Hadrian declared grimly. "And you shouldn't forget the ones inside the school, and though I suspect the students might give you a hard time, you'll mostly have to deal with the first years. And as for the teachers, you only need to look out for two that I know of. One of them is the Slytherin Head of House, Severus Snape, and the other Headmaster Dumbledore. The Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers changes yearly, so of them we have no idea yet."

Remus was obviously uncomfortable with the advice Hadrian was giving his young charge, but said nothing. Instead he focused on his tea and admiring the various flowers decorating the room.

Yet his silence broke when Harry ran into the garden and left him alone with Hadrian.

"I can understand your caution of Snape and Dumbledore, but should you really be telling Harry to be weary of them? He'll not trust them now, and they will be his teachers and in charge of his education and safety while he's at Hogwarts."

"I expect Harry to take care of himself, and that means against his teachers as well," Hadrian replied. "Snape is known to favour Death Eater children, and though I suspect he wouldn't do anything perilous to Harry, I wouldn't put it past him to let Harry's education suffer. And as for Dumbledore, I simply don't trust the man when it comes to Harry's safety. He's already proven he can't be held responsible for that."

"You mean his relatives," Remus said, meaning the Dursleys and Hadrian nodded. "Are you ever going to forgive him?" Remus asked, with desperation in his gentle and unassuming voice.

"No," Hadrian answered. "And I don't have to. There is no law that compels me to forgive him, or even speak to him. If Harry did not wish so desperately to attend Hogwarts, I would not allow him to set foot in that school."

"This is about more than the Dursleys," Remus pointed out and leaned forward, taking in every inch of Hadrian's face. "More than Harry. What could have Dumbledore possibly have done to you?"

Hadrian refused to answer, because he could not tell Remus the truth, and lies about this, no matter how convincing, would be found out. "Did you know he still holds the invisibility cloak?" he asked instead.

"What? Who? Dumbledore?" Remus shook his head. "That can't be true. Why would Dumbledore have James's cloak?"

"I don't know the reason," Hadrian said. "But he has it, and has yet to return it."

"Maybe he's holding it for Harry," was Remus' weak attempt to defend Dumbledore.

"And that is my point!" Hadrian shouted, leaning back on his chair and gripping the arm rests. "It is not for him to hold things for Harry, that is my role. If he did not think Harry mature enough he should have given the cloak to me. He should have relinquished it the moment I became Harry's guardian."

"You have hardly given him the opportunity," Remus replied calmly, and with a hint of annoyance now. "You flee the moment you set eyes on him and refuse to even exchange a few cordial words with him."

"He could have sent the cloak back at any moment. He could have returned it through Gringotts, by mail, through a Hogwarts elf. There are millions of possibilities, but only so many reasons why he has not relinquished the cloak." Hadrian drew in a calming breath and forced his face and voice to sooth over and not reflect his anger. "The fact is, I do not trust him. And I can't trust anyone that would run to him with my secrets. And someone I can't trust, I can't allow Harry to see."

Remus' mouth curled and he even gave an impressive growl, but Hadrian refused to be intimidated. "You have a choice Remus, one that is not even very complex." Hadrian poured more tea into his cup and then brought it to his lips. He waited a while longer, but when it was clear Remus wasn't going to respond, he continued. "I need your word you will not reveal any of my secrets to Dumbledore, or to anyone who might carry those secrets to him."

"And if I don't give you my word?" Remus asked, too calmly for him not to be furious.

Hadrian placed the tea cup back down and placed his hands on the arm rests, taking his time in answering, watching Remus stew in his anger. "I'll make sure you never see Harry again," he said. "And believe me, I do have the power to make it happen."

Remus was so still that he would have passed for a statue. He sat in the same position long enough for Hadrian to wonder if he should poke the other man to get him to exhibit some signs of life, but eventually Remus blinked and drew breath so it was visible. "Alright, you have it. You have my word," he finally said.

"I need you to say it, Remus, I need to hear the words," Hadrian pressed.

"I give you my word that I will never reveal any of your secrets." There was no flash of light, no pulse of magic, because this was not a vow made with magic that bound, it was simply one man's word. And Hadrian trusted it, trusted Remus Lupin's word where he would not trust Lucius'.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Feedback is loved and adored.

**Beta:** Crazylioness21

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Entertaining a member of Hogwarts' teaching staff was not an unusual occurrence for a member of the Hogwarts Board of Governors, and preparing for it had almost become a routine in the Malfoy household. Narcissa knew to welcome them in the green parlour, with Draco standing beside her, on his best behaviour, the elves had instruction to prepare the smaller dining-room and bring out the less expensive liquor when the guests asked for refreshments.

But entertaining Severus Snape was a different matter. You could not offer the Potions Master cheap liquor or wine and dine him in the smaller dining-room and to force him to deal with Lucius' family, particularly Draco. It was a mistake Lucius had committed only once. Draco still had nightmares of the vampire man and his contemptuous sneer.

Snape was not fond of children, which made his choice of career all the more suspicious, if his closeness to Albus Dumbledore had not already made Lucius question Snape's allegiances, along with his peculiar fascination for Lily Potter, formerly Lily Evans.

The fireplace in his study flared green and Lucius stood from behind his desk as Snape stepped out of the flames, his dark robes flaring dramatically, making Lucius think of the times Snape had worn a different set of dark robes and a bone white mask. He had not yet carried himself with such dignity, nor had he dared to sneer at Lucius. This confidence that was now so obvious in Snape's demeanour and stance was something he had gained after the fall of the Dark Lord. He had been a young man, barely anything more than a child when he swore his life and magic to the service of the Dark Lord. He'd risen quickly in the ranks, not only because of his mastery in Potions but for his other talents as well. Severus Snape had been a brilliant child who'd turned into a bitter and hard man, disillusioned by the ways of the Death Eaters and powerful men. Were Lucius someone who easily felt sympathy, he would have pitied Snape more than any other human being he'd ever come across.

"Severus," Lucius greeted the younger man with a warm, almost affectionate smile. "You're precisely on time, as expected."

"Lucius," Snape replied, his lips forming a sneer that in the right light could be interpreted as a smile and bent his neck slightly, the mere hint of respect on it something that in earlier years would have made Lucius draw out his wand and curse him. Snape had bowed with more respect when he was younger, when he still thought Lucius to be everything he desired to be, when Lucius had not yet insisted Snape address him by his first name.

"Would you like something to drink?" he offered and gestured towards the chairs and the small table not far from the fireplace beside a window that had a glorious view of the garden. A white peacock; one of many freely wandering on the grounds walked past just as Snape turned. The sight made no apparent impact on Snape. He was used to seeing such things when he visited the Manor and at times hardly a week passed between his visits. Lucius doubted he visited anywhere else, and suspected that the Malfoys were the only Wizarding family he knew, or who even invited him anywhere.

"I do not have long," Snape said, instead of answering and sat down on the chair that's back was to the wall and where he could see the whole room, most importantly the door and the fireplace. "I have to attend tonight's staff-meeting and there is no one who I would trust to supervise the Slytherins in my absence."

"Narcissa and I will feel most secure knowing Draco will be in your capable hands once he is attending Hogwarts," Lucius replied, letting Snape draw conclusions of his own from his words, knowing the man would believe Lucius' trust in him was unshakeable. After all, there was nothing Lucius Malfoy valued more than his precious heir. It had become a game, to see how much he could get Snape to confide in him yet at the same time reveal nothing of actual significance to the other man.

"I thought you had decided to send the boy to Durmstrang?" Snape asked, just as Lucius had expected.

"If only it were possible," Lucius answered, snapped his fingers and a tea tray appeared on the small table, with two cups already filled to the brim, the other one flavoured with a twist of lemon and just a hint of milk, exactly as Snape always drank his tea. "But Narcissa is most insistent and my position as a Governor on the Board has made me re-think the issue. Perhaps with our joint influence we will be able to keep Draco safe from the meddling influence of the old fool."

Snape merely grunted and reached for the cup of tea and when he held it in his hand, took a small sip and smiled softly. "The tea is as excellent as I remembered," he said, as he always did.

"You know Narcissa prefers to prepare it for herself when we you visit," Lucius answered and took his own cup. "I shall pass on your compliments, she will be most pleased." Who wouldn't, when they found that they could mask the taste of a potion so well that they could fool even a Potions Master of Snape's calibre? Truly, Snape only had himself to blame. Had he held himself in check while meeting Draco that once, Narcissa would have refused to 'season' his tea and drinking your tea with lemon? Why, there were a number of things the fruit's bitter taste could mask, especially when you were as proficient in Potions as Narcissa.

"How well do you know Potter?" Snape asked bluntly, as was his habit, especially after taking a sip of his lemon scented tea.

"As well as anyone does, I suppose," Lucius replied, and took a sip of his tea, free of any kind of taste beside the herbs which he had chosen himself.

"That is not what the rumours say," Snape took one last sip of his tea and then placed it back on the table where it refilled itself, this time, without the extra ingredient. Only a small amount was needed with Snape. There was already trust between them, no matter how fragile and virtually non-existent on Lucius' side. "You have been seen dining together, he even saved you from a Death Eater," here Snape paused and gave him a long, speculative look "and you claim you are only acquaintances?"

Lucius tilted his head and gave Snape a small smile and then an approving nod as if Snape was still someone who was overjoyed when Lucius complimented him on his talents or observations. These days it only served to annoy Snape, to be reminded how much more experience Lucius had, how far Snape still was from being on the same level as Lucius in many things.

"You could say I know something a little more of Potter than your average wizard," Lucius conceded and following Snape's example, placed his tea back on the table, yet held his palm over it for a second, indicating that he did not wish for it to be refilled.

"Is he Dark or Light?" Snape asked the question which he must have been burning to know the answer for ever since he met the man, and Lucius laughed.

"Dark or Light?" Lucius asked, his mirth still obvious. "Next you'll be asking me if he is good or evil. You have spent far too much time around school children if you believe people can be categorized simply as Dark or Light or that is has any significance on anything. Or more likely, the company of that old fool has made you see the world as he does, divided in two parts, with no shades of grey in between."

"Just answer the question, Lucius," Snape's voice was sharp, his patience thin and clearly running out. "Is he a Dark Wizard?"

Lucius was about to answer when an elf popped into the room, holding a folded paper note, shivering. Lucius glared at the thing and extended his hand for the note, expecting it to be from Narcissa. But before he could open it, the elf spoke. "It is from the dark man," and popped out, causing Lucius' hand to twitch. With a frown he opened the note, all too aware of Snape's curious eyes on him.

_Tell him nothing, he is not to be trusted. _

Lucius scoffed and squeezed the hand that held the note into a fist and with a sharp twist of his wrist threw it into the fireplace where the flames quickly destroyed all traces of it. "A Dark Wizard?" Lucius asked. "I wouldn't know, he trusts me not a single bit."

"There must be something you know of him," Snape insisted. "It is apparent to anyone that has seen the two of you interact that he considers you a friend."

"A friend?" Lucius murmured and turned to face Snape. "Hardly. If he sees me as anything, it is as his fool." _As I consider you to be my fool, dear Severus,_ he added in his mind, bitterly. The similarity had never even occurred to him before this, but it was there. He had seduced Snape much in the same way Hadrian had seduced him, without the added benefit of sex, of course. The thought of even touching Snape's greasy hair or his sallow skin disgusted Lucius and he shuddered involuntarily as he imagined his lips anywhere near Snape's crooked and yellow teeth.

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Hadrian was having tea with Lupin and Harry in Grimmauld's garden when the owl arrived.

He knew it was from Lucius even before breaking the wax seal. It was the timing. He had mentioned offhandedly of having tea with Lupin on Monday at four, and as Hadrian knew his note had reached Lucius when he was with Snape, it would be accordance to the other man's character to interrupt his tea time in a similar manner.

_Your interference in my matters is not welcomed. Please desist from further insulting my intelligence with similar helpful advice. _

Hadrian laughed softly as he read the note, each word written precisely with enough force that the outline of each letter was visible on the underside of the thick parchment. There could be no mistaking that Lucius was furious.

"Good news?" Lupin asked with a hesitant smile. The man was still unsure of how to act towards him, but he was always polite, even without Harry there.

"A prelude of interesting things," Hadrian replied, folded the note and placed it in one of the pockets of his robe.


End file.
